For a while this afternoon, I stood at the window and watched the awesome power of nature at work. It was raining so hard that it was as if a sheet of translucent glass had been lowered out of the sky between me and my garden. I watched out through windows on all four sides of the house, and it was awe-inspiring.
From my windows I canít see the road, but I can see the lights of the vehicles coming from several hundred yards to the south. I thought if I stood and watched long enough, I would probably see cars skidding into each other. Weíre not used to this much rain at one time, and it made me grateful that I didnít have to be out in it today.
Then I thought of the people who were out in it, especially Mom. She went to a dinner on the other side of town, and I didnít relax until she phoned to let me know sheíd made it home. Neither of us has a cell phone, but a day like this gives me a clue as to why people carry those things around with them all the time.
Even yesterday at the movies, a man sitting in the same row as us took a call, right in the middle of Sideways. His phone rang (or rather, it sang its little e-ditty) two or three times before he answered, then he clambered over us and talked all the way up the aisle as he made his way to the lobby.
If I had a cell phone, it wouldnít be on when I was in a theater, or pretty much any other public place. Anyway, I wouldnít let it ring during tense dramatic moments in the dark with a few dozen people around. Thatís just wrong.