At the beginning of the school year, my daughter-in-law asked
me to accompany my three-year-old granddaughter when she went
to school for the first time. Each of the girls was supposed
to come with her mommy but Faigy's mommy had just given birth
that week and therefore was unable to attend. I was to be the
fill-in.
When we came into the room, we saw that the teacher had
prepared a strip of lanyard plastic for each girl and tied an
"O"-shaped snack to one end. There was a bowl of various
snacks in the middle of each small table. The snacks were
different sizes, shapes and colors, but each had a hole in
the middle. The girls could take a plastic strip, sit down at
a table and string together cereal circles and other goodies.
When the plastic strip was full of nosh or the girl tired of
the activity, the mother could tie the ends together and make
a necklace for her daughter (or granddaughter, in my
case).
While the girls were busy, several mothers rushed over to the
teacher to introduce themselves and share important
information. I wasn't close enough to overhear any of the
conversations (not that I would have eavesdropped
intentionally) but I can imagine what might have been said.
Perhaps one girl has a food allergy. Another might be left-
handed. It is conceivable that a third has just been weaned
away from her 11 a.m. nap but at that magical time might
still put her thumb in her mouth and zonked out.
After the craft project was completed, we took the girls for
a tour of the room, pointing out where the toys and puzzles
were stored, where the washing sink was located and most
important of all, where the bathrooms were. Time was short
and we rushed from place to place.
Next, the girls were asked to sit down at the story corner
with their mothers behind them. The teacher went around the
circle, stopping in front of each girl. She then sang,
"Boker Tov to . . . " and read that girl's name off
her name tag, giving the girls the chance to hear each
other's names. At the same time, the mother could correct any
mistake in pronunciation if the student had an unusual name,
or tell the teacher the nickname by which her daughter is
usually called Each of the girls received a small candy and,
on that happy note, everyone was dismissed.
I couldn't help noticing that although these young mothers
were all members of the cell-phone generation, not one of
them had whipped out a phone to make a single call. They
wanted to maximize their time with the teacher and to make
their daughters comfortable with their new school. Gabbing on
the phone would just have to wait.
We are approaching the most joyous week of the year, when
IY"H we will sit in the succah, and spend quality time
with our families and our guests. The very best Guest will be
the One who teaches Torah to all of Kllal Yisroel, the
Ribbono Shel Olom. If the kindergarten mothers could give up
their cell phones for an hour and a half in order to focus on
the gannenet and her program, I believe we should all
make maximum effort to leave the cell phones and cordless
telephones in the house while we are dwelling in our sukkahs,
basking in the Presence of the Shechina.
In this day and age, telephones have become an addiction. I
was waiting at a bus stop in Geula early one afternoon just
before Shavuos. There was an American seminary student
sitting on one of the seats in the bus shelter, speaking into
her cell phone. In order for her to hear herself over the din
of the traffic, she was speaking quite loudly. It was
impossible not to overhear her.
She was telling her friend that she was waiting for her
chosson to meet her so they could do some shopping.
There were various things they needed for the apartment they
were furnishing for after their upcoming wedding. As she was
speaking, a young man rushed up to her, a bit breathless. He
had probably run most of the way from his yeshiva in order to
maximize the time with his kallah.
She smiled at him and then did something absolutely amazing.
She continued to talk to her friend over the phone —
and not for just a few seconds. She spoke for at least five
minutes!
The young man shifted uneasily from foot to foot. He stood
near the bus stop and dodged passersby, some with arms full
of packages and others pushing rapidly moving baby carriages.
He tried various methods to get the young woman's attention.
But to no avail. The phone call took first priority for the
kallah and she was not about to end it a second before
her friend on the other end was ready to hang up.
I suppose that if this is the way the kallah's mind
works, it was just as well that her chosson found out
about it before the wdding, but to me it seemed to border on
the absurd. At any point in the protracted conversation, she
could have said, "Well Yossi is here now. Gotta go." But that
didn't happen. And why not? Because whether she realizes it
or not, this young woman is addicted to her cell phone.
I would like to be able to tell you that she is the only one
who suffers from this addiction, but that would not be the
truth. I have seen toddlers at the park sitting on a swing,
howling, "Push me!!!" while Mommy is wrapped up in her cell
phone conversation.
I have seen married couples, riding the bus all the way into
town, sitting side by side, she on her cell phone and he on
his. Not a word has passed between them for the entire thirty
minutes they have been on the bus, but both have talked non-
stop.
Someone showed me a cute article about our technological era.
Each short paragraph began with the words, "You know it is
2005 if . . . " One example is "You know it is 2005 if you e-
mail the person at the next desk."
Another is "You know it is 2005 if you call your house on the
cell phone as you are driving home from the supermarket to
alert the children to meet you on the driveway, or in the
garage, to carry the groceries into the house." Admittedly
that may be a bit more polite than the, "Hey kids. Can you
come out and get the bags?" that we older mommies used to
call into the house from the doorway. However, it also shows
how dependent people have become on cell phones and e-
mails.
This Succos, let's invite lots of guests into our
succah. Friends, relatives, neighbors and everyone who
isn't fortunate enough to have one of their own. How about
the widow next door and the young couple who just moved in
and didn't have time to put up a succah?
But let's disinvite all of those small hand-held instruments
whose names start with Nokia, Motorola, Panasonic and the
like. Cell phones and cordless telephones are definitely not
the ushpizin that we need when we are spending quality
time in the succah.
