I suppose it was not till my iPhone reached the very apex of its ascent, 30 feet or so above me, that I gave any thought to how this all really looked.
Full-grown man, standing in the yard, hurling a smartphone up into the air with all his might over and over again, and then nearly doing cartwheels trying to catch it before it could hit the ground. Would people drive by and stare at that moment? Was a Google Earth satellite taking pictures? Was some stuffed suit at the National Security Agency spitting his coffee out all over his monitor as he beheld some Southern rube going berserk?
It was only three tosses, mind you, and I caught it each time. And thanks to the Otter Box cover enclosing it, the phone did have at least a measure of protection in case I missed.
We have little to no cellphone reception at my home. Mind you, that is not necessarily a bad thing. I tend to think that most all of us are very overconnected these days, not having so much as a moment or two off he electronic leash we have bound ourselves to. So the moments at home, untethered, are actually kind of nice.
Still, when I found myself with an urgent need to send a text, I played the game that all of us in my neck of the woods play; a hide and seek comprised of wandering around the house and yard holding the phone high above my head to try and find a bar of signal.