Share with me a memory of my long relationship with my sweetheart
After close to half a century of marriage, I’m still not sure what keeps my husband and me together. We’ve stuck it out through thick and thin, in spite of two pretty stubborn dispositions.
My husband had decided that he would express his love by giving me one of his most precious possessions–his old IPhone. I knew what a gift he perceived this phone to be because of his preoccupation with its newer model.
As far as I was concerned, my primitive “dumb” phone would serve me fine. After all, it did assure me when I left the house against being stranded if the car broke down. All the bells and whistles of the smart phone did not impress me. Admittedly, I didn’t like the idea of a phone whose I.Q. registered higher than mine.
However, my devoted husband wanted to share the profound joy he experienced using his phone with me, his bride. Sucking in my reluctant attitude, I agreed to give it a try. He responded as if I’d given him the key to Fort Knox, excitedly making plans for how best to proceed with this great adventure. While I, on the other hand, dreaded his possible disappointment when the anticipated love affair with the IPhone did not bloom for me.
We headed for the phone store to pick up supplies and learned that the early model he was giving me required a transfer on line from home. I did not understand most of the jargon between the two men, so merely stood there, thinking about the laundry awaiting me at home.
He completed the transfer process with something called a Sim card, so was ready to begin teaching me the wondrous world of advanced cell phones. I have tried to explain to my husband for years that, believe it or not, machines of all kinds do not like me. I know it sounds ridiculous, but even he became a believer after about the 12th time he tried to show me how to turn the phone off. He’d show me how, and then turned it back on so I could try. Every time I tried my best to imitate the position of his fingers, using just the right amount of pressure in exactly the right place, I had no success. It wouldn’t turn off for me. Over and over, he would turn it off successfully, turn it back on, I would try, but no cigar. I finally found a slightly different way of holding the phone with one hand while using the other hand to poke the button. After the second poke, sometimes it would turn off.
I thanked God that was over, while my husband moved on to demonstrate all the marvelous features the IPhone had, such as weather reports, email, the camera, and on and on. I was truly impressed, but in the back of my mind, I mulled over the fact that I probably wouldn’t remember a fraction of it.
For the sake of my sweet and long-suffering husband, I made an attempt to use this new I-Phone. Who knew, maybe in several months I’d be rattling off texts and googling with the best of them. I did hope, however, I would be able to make a call now and then, after which I could turn off the phone.
Dianna
Sharing the Fruit of Maturity
