Writers & Books: My Mother, Technology, and Me

It began with the birthday dinners. These were implemented by my sisters, my mother, and me as a way to end the annual tradition of giving each other candles and luxury socks and instead celebrate each other’s birthdays — by sharing good food and wine.

Birthday girl gets treated and no candles or gift cards are exchanged.

This tradition lasts a few years. And at the end of each meal at least one person is sauced, at least one person has cried (just a little bit), and at least four memories that were bedrock to one’s construction of self were challenged, or dismantled altogether. 

Your rosy glow of a recollection erased by someone else’s simple statement, “That never happened.”  

Other unspoken rules unfolded, such as “Don’t challenge the birthday girl.” If she says it’s true, you nod and pass the appetizers. It’s her day. 

We routinely followed this tradition, and then one year decided to have a home celebration and invite some aunts and uncles. 

At this dinner, I was sitting next to my mom as I heard her say to my aunt/her sister, “My kids never call. They don’t answer the phone and they don’t return their messages.”

I broke the cardinal rule of agreeing with the birthday girl.

“Mom,” I said.  “Well, you don’t,” she said to me.“They don’t,” she said to my aunt. My 78-year-old aunt replied, “Well, I think all the kids are texting these days. They don’t answer the phone. But they text.”  

“Oh, I don’t do that,” my mom said. “That texting.”

“Well,” her sister said, “they answer their texts.”

I text with my own daughter, who sometimes writes when she is with a friend or relative for a sleepover. A number will pop up on my phone, and a message in all caps, 25 smiley faces, and 19 exclamation points will say, “HI MOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

The first text I received from my mom arrives three days after the birthday dinner. In all caps, and reads: SHPSHKOC

I text back,  “Hi Mom, Welcome to texting.”

Twenty minutes later the next one arrived.

BUTNSSMALL FINGRS BIG

I text back, “Fat fingers.”

Twenty minutes later, her response arrived.

NOTNICE

Within four weeks her skills improved. One day I looked at my phone and saw a message the length of a dissertation. 

I immediately recalled an intervention that both my sisters gently provided after I joined the world of texting.

“Your texts are pretty long,” my older sister said.  “They’re supposed to be brief. Yours are email length.”

“Well, that’s because nobody emails,” I said.  “Nobody emails because they’re all on The Facebook.”

“It’s Facebook,” the younger sister said, “and you’re right. Nobody emails because email takes too long. But your texts are not supposed to be email length.”

“Fine.” I said, “Anything else?”As though she’d been waiting for this question, my younger sister added, “Yes. Don’t write LOL. It’s for 13-year-old girls.

“But I’m really laughing when I write that,” I said.  “What am I supposed to text?”

“Write, ‘Ha.’ Or, ‘Ha ha.’” she said

“But nobody laughs ‘Ha ha.’ I don’t know one person who says ha ha when they laugh,” I said.

She shrugs. “You asked.”

“Ha is what you say when you’re trying to summon a laugh for something that’s not particularly funny,” I go on. “It’s a polite way of acknowledging someone’s failed attempt at humor.”

“Too long,” she said, of my speaking.

 While my daughter’s next text arrives with twice the usual amount of hearts and smiley faces, my mom’s texts grow longer, with better spelling and decreased punctuation. STILL ALL CAPS. 

At the next birthday gathering, which now includes everybody, my mother declared that nobody answers her texts.

“Well, you don’t,” she said. She cited evidence until my younger sister asks for my mom’s phone.

She flips it open.  

She goes through the texts and reads one my mom has written to our brother:

HI I MADE HAM JUST TOOK IT OUT IS SHANNON WORKING WANT TO COME TOO MUCH FOR ME AND DAD THANKS FOR SHOVELING DRIVEWAY I COULD DROP OFF HAM

My mother is nodding at our brother, “You never answered!”

“OK,” my younger sister continued. “Here’s the reply.”

Hello.

Thank you for letting me know about the ham. Shannon is not here. I do not know if she is working because I am not married to Shannon. I don’t own a shovel. And I don’t eat ham because I am a vegetarian.

 I am not your son, though it is clear that our numbers have great similarity as I still get all the texts that are meant for him.

 Please. Please. Remove my number.This is the longest text I have ever composed because yours are so long and thoughtful that I wanted to follow suit as we end this relationship.

Best of luck with your son, thank you again for the offer of ham. 

Signed, Not Sean 

My mother is grabbing for the phone, my brother is glowing with vindication, my sisters are dying laughing, and I, too, chuckle. Ha … or Ha ha.

She Rocs magazine is collaborating with Writers & Books to share a short story or essay in every issue, written by students or instructors. Writers & Books is a nonprofit literary center based in Rochester that fosters and promotes reading and writing as lifelong activities. The programs are numerous and varied, reaching more than 25,000 people per year. Learn more at wab.org.