They already have one each, but these do
little more than make calls. The new ones they've bought have text messaging, games,
numerous ring tones, a voice recording facility and much more.
I work from home, and
don’t even have a mobile phone. (Well, I do now – my oldest son has just
given me his old one.) My computer is older than theirs, even though I use
it all day in my writing. My wife and I are trying to be good Christian
parents, stressing to our kids an ideal of modest living and service to
others. Have we failed?
Last Saturday, our third son’s primary
school held its fete, and for one-and-a-half hours I was on duty at the
lucky dip stall. It was a typical Aussie scene – a glorious spring day, with
thousands of relaxed people enjoying some good-natured fun. But something
startled me - a steady stream of kids, many just five or six, who
nonchalantly opened wallets and purses bulging with coins, to pay for the
attractions.
Television was introduced to New Zealand
(where I was born) when I was a boy. My mother refused to allow us to have a
set for many years, and even then it was tightly rationed. That attitude –
that television is a kind of a luxury, to be used sparingly - stayed with me
until I went to live in Japan, and was astonished – and, initially, appalled
– to find that most houses seemed to have the TV on all day.
Here is how my former colleague Peter
Tasker described that phenomenon in his wonderful book
Inside Japan:
Because Japanese
houses are small, usually with one cramped living room, the TV is always
physically close at hand, occupying a central position, much like the hearth
in a Western home. Families settle down to their breakfast, lunch and dinner
before the flickering tube. Even if a guest is present it is not considered
discourteous to keep one eye on the screen all through the meal. Although
there may be no interest in the programmes being broadcast, the set is
rarely switched off. It acts as a kind of visual muzak. As the guest tucks
into his sukiyaki he is but dimly aware of the rape of the doctor’s
assistant; the comedian waddling around with his trousers around his ankles;
the Giants’ [baseball team] sayonara home run; the screeching of tyres and
the swishing of swords.
Mobile phones have already become like
that for our young people – a utility, like the water supply, absolutely
taken for granted. But money? Is it too heading in the same direction?
Money as muzak? Something that’s always
there, to be ignored or used as required? I don’t know. Buying their first
home – virtually a patriotic duty in Australia – is presumably going to
force a change of attitude among our youngsters.
But meanwhile, Christian parenting sure
isn’t getting any easier.
November 22nd, 2002
