“Cell phones are so convenient that they’re an inconvenience.” — Haruki Murakami

I find it interesting how brain and language grow together. I grieve for any culture that has had to hide their native language to survive. What that must do to the body and the brain…and the soul.

I see advances in some technology slyly put a camouflage-membrane over our spoken language. I find it troubling.

Most children learn language from listening, repeating and modeling after others. It’s a big chunk of brain development. Since their brains continue to grow into their late 20s, it makes me wonder the effect of less voice to the ear.

A large part of my survival I have relied on my emotional intelligence. I wouldn’t be where I am without the experience of being able to listen to my siblings and parents talk to their friends, whisper in the back bedroom or talk on the single, wall phone we had. 

I was exposed to quirks of language like inflections, humor, joy, fear, anger, sadness, secrecy, etc. and I studied it like a moth seeking a light, when I was young. Two parents and nine siblings gave me the overload I craved. I learned skills way before I was able to read or write.

I didn’t have a choice to text someone or share on social media. How long the phone cord at home was more of a concern. To have privacy I had to stretch the phone cord to another room. Ours went further into the kitchen or ALMOST to the bathroom. But…if anyone wanted to listen they just had to ask to use the bathroom.

Living in a huge neighborhood would have been a disaster with cell phones. One of the greatest feelings of putting an end to a bully's taunts was being able to turn around and walk away. (Or run) Not so simple with cell phones and social media.

When I’m at the YMCA after school is let out, I see young people trickle in, but rarely hear them, they come in silent. I notice their eye-contact, physical proximity and body language isn’t being practiced.

As a preteen I loved being at the Theut’s house. Everyone would talk at the same time while we waited for the brownies to come out of the oven. My friend Annette and her family always made me feel welcome. It’s sad to think if we all had cell phones the smell of chocolate would diffuse while we all bent toward phones. Texting someone who wasn’t present, instead of shaping the memory with those in the room. So many social contexts to learn and practice in person.

My memory wouldn’t be as cemented. I still can feel the combination of an echo-y kitchen, aroma and heat coming from the brownies, the sight of Moran Bay through their big kitchen window. Feeling like I belonged. 

They bent the rules with their constant interrupting, talking over each other, the wonderful, rackety laughter. We sat everywhere——on the counter, on the table, on the windowsill. They were much more practiced at being ready to immediately stand up in a second to interrupt so they could press a point. Bodies moving with language.

I wonder about all of us losing our native language. We could inadvertently let it to be taken away by technological advances without conscious permission. Language holds our culture, our roots. How will a “Yooper” accent survive without daily banter? How will family vocabulary linked to memories be reinforced? We cement our culture, our connected history through our shared language.

My children have pointed out to me that when I’m in the Upper Peninsula for awhile I regain a distinctive accent I had growing up. In college I was embarrassed by this being pointed out and ridiculed, but now I’m proud I have something no one can take from the part of the brain it was stored———-culture, family and language.

Does our language and culture shift our genes our souls? I don’t know. Maybe our children and grandchildren will benefit in more ways than we imagine from the language that nestles them as they grow.

I rely on my cell phone. It's already a part of my daily life. I do send voice memos often to my loved ones and use snail mail. Ways of leaning into the new while holding on to what I value from the old.