The Sound of Irrelevance

The Sound of Irrelevance I am standing on a street corner in downtown Fargo, jokingly holding a pay phone receiver to my ear.  Theres an odd buzzing sound thrumming through the earpiece. It takes me a moment to realize what it is. Although I havent heard from her in a while, I remember her wellâ€"sedulous Ms. Dial Tone, singing her monotone song each time I lifted my phone from its cradle. But that was a while ago, back when I had home-phone service. These days, however, Ms. T. hardly comes around at all; occasionally shell make an appearance at the office, but even there she sings less and less each day, displaced by email and texts and data and, of course, mobile phones. Not surprisingly, no one has missed Ms. Dial Tone; no petitions are being signed to bring her back. Even though she played a vital role for 130 years, shes no longer relevant. And she never will be again. So here I am, pay phone in hand, listening to the droning sound of irrelevance. Likewise, there are material items in our lives thatve added value for yearsâ€"clothes, kitchenware, electronics, furniture, etc. But in time, even the most useful belongings become irrelevant. After which, we must let go, lest we cling to irrelevance. What possessions do you own thatve lost their relevance? What would it take to let go?  Join the conversations on Facebook and Twitter. “The Sound of Irrelevance” was originally a passage in Everything That Remains, but its chapter was one of many that didn’t make the final draft, so I decided to share it here instead.  For more  essays from The Minimalists, subscribe for free via  email.