My Turn: My phone's long creep from the glove box

As summer vacation approaches, I’m thinking about my relationship with my phone, which is evolving into codependency. Boundaries must be set.

It didn’t start out this way. When I bought my first flip phone in the early 1990s, it was stowed in the glove compartment of my car, only taken out to charge it.

As my children grew into their teens and Mom’s taxi became a service, I carried my phone for logistics. The biggest shift in my relationship occurred after the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks. I always wanted my phone with me to call a loved one in case of an emergency. I would return home to get it if I forgot to take it.

As the second millennium progressed, my daughter peer-pressured me into texting, because “all her friends’ mothers did.” That messaging eventually grew into text chains. My flip phone was replaced by a Blackberry at the behest of colleagues who said I needed to send emails for work at any time or place. I developed agile typing thumbs that could fire off an email in a flash.

I took the plunge, for better or for worse, and switched to a smartphone about a decade ago, which now dominates my life from morning to night. We are never apart. I keep it plugged in at night next to my bed. When I wake up, I view the weather and then play Wordle with my son and daughter, who are 30 and 1,800 miles away, respectively. Receiving their Wordle post lets me know they’re all right. I refer to my calendar over a cup of coffee to check the day’s appointments. When I drive my car, I plug in my Android Auto to access my GPS and favorite music. It’s no wonder that by the afternoon, my phone is clamoring for an energy boost.

“Phone” was one of the first words my granddaughter learned after mama and dada. Now a preschooler, she begs me to watch videos on it. She will never know a world without cellphones. I tell her about the telephones of my youth that were tethered to coiled cords, which I stretched as far as I could to get out of the hearing range of any adult. I showed my granddaughter pictures on the internet of rotary dials. I limit the amount of time she spends on my phone, for her best interests and because it becomes over-heated.

My granddaughter cries when I tell her it is time to put my phone away. I sometimes bargain with her that I will read her two stories and then she can watch a video. The importance of setting appropriate phone usage needs to begin early. The phone obsession is an issue for parents and educators. Adults can help by setting their own good examples of putting their phones away during meals, social interactions, and activities.

My phone and I need to give each other a break and vacation time is the perfect opportunity to turn it off. But I will need it to take pictures of where I am, who I’m with, and what I’m eating to post on social media and then to read reactions and comments. My phone is an amazing device that connects me with people and information and will be useful to have with me on vacation, but the challenge is to find a healthy balance between experiencing the moment and recording it for posterity.

Linda Goor Nanos

Bellmore