RIVER CITY JOURNAL: HELLO. WHAT? WHO IS THIS? IS THAT REALLY YOU?

The last personal letter I received was from a old friend who has no telephone, no TV, no radio. Don't you envy him?

When the e-mail arrived earlier this week, it made me realize how high-tech our lives have become. The electronic message was from our older son in Boston. (Technically, he's in Cambridge, but if you say that, most Midwesterners think he's in England. So I say he's in Boston, except when he's around, and then I'm careful to say Cambridge. I am a good father.)

It is no surprise that Jason can send e-mail. I remember during the student uprising in Tiannamen Square that he received e-mail from friends in the square sending message by portable computer and cell phones. He knew what was going on minute by minute, long before CNN could show him.

What was a surprise was that we ("we" being his mother and I) didn't know his e-mail address. So when I saw the e-mail, I immediately sent a reply just to make sure he was at the other end. Indeed he was.

Our younger son, the pilot, uses a gizmo about the size of a cellular phone that links up to satellites to determine where he is -- exactly -- at any moment.

About a month ago we signed up for an 800 number at home. This means we can give out the number and its accompanying access code to anyone we would like to call us long-distance at no charge to them.

Both sons qualify.

Brendan is good about calling. He rarely misses calling home every weekend. Until we got the 800 number, he used our calling card number. This meant we paid the telephone folks a higher rate both for the call and for using the card. Not a sensible or economical system.

We also thought the 800 number might encourage Jason to call more frequently. Calling every week isn't his style. His parents would settle for once a month.

Jason is, when he's not in the middle of one of his medical research projects, a world traveler. He started when he was still in college. We tried to reach him at his fraternity house (in Boston, although he went to school across the Charles River in Cambridge) for quite some time. After several weeks of message-taking and promises that Jason would call back, his mother did what any normal mother would do.

She called the fraternity house. A pleasant young man answered. She told the lad in no uncertain terms that she was Jason's mother -- M-O-T-H-E-R -- and not some bimbo chasing a good-looking college man. Moreover, she said in her best mother's voice, she wanted to talk to her son. Now. Without saying so, she made it very plain that there would be a price to pay and that the entire fraternity would have an angry mother on its hands if she didn't get to talk to Jason immediately.

Apparently, her ploy worked. The fellow on the other end of the line cupped his hands over the phone on the Boston end -- but not enough to completely muffle his voice -- and shouted: "Has Jason got back from Greece yet?"

You can imagine his mother's reaction. You can fill in all the sordid details.

What amazes me about all this is that Jason could have kept up his traveling ruse indefinitely, if only he had relied on the technology at hand. We know from later trips -- Malaysia, Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, China, Russia, Yugoslavia, Egypt, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, South Africa, Belize, maybe you get the picture now -- that when he remembers to call home, it sounds like he's in the next room. Instead of relying on fraternity brothers, who actually did a pretty good job, he could have called once a week from Patmos or somewhere with a phone booth, and we would have assumed he was in Boston/Cambridge all along.

Same thing for e-mail. As far as I know Jason's e-mail came from the hospital where his research lab is located. But I know enough about e-mail to know that it can be made to look like it's coming from someplace else. And I know Jason.

I remember growing up on Kelo Valley in the Ozarks west of here when there was no e-mail, no satellites, no telephone. Hunters used gunshots to communicate. Neighbors walked to each other's houses and talked face to face. Or you got in the pickup and drove to town if you really needed to use a telephone.

Once, when I was in high school, I called my band teacher from Toney's Drug Store. I can't remember why I needed to speak to Mr. English, but it had to be important to go to the drug store and use the phone. Of course, Mr. English lived only a few blocks from the drug store, and I could have walked to his house. But technology has a lure, and it speaks with a sultry voice, saying, "I'm here. I'm ready. Use me."

Too sexy, you think? Look at what's happening with the Internet. Its appeal certainly can be compared to sex. How else can you explain it?

We now have a phone in one of our cars too. Soon there will be phones in both cars. I guess we will have to call each other when we're driving. That's the way we live nowadays.

Or we could continue talking to each other over dinner at night.

Maybe we could develop a browser for other folks who would enjoy face-to-face conversation. Heck, this may be the next technological breakthrough. Just remember where you heard it first.

And don't forget to call me. Or e-mail me at jsullivan@semissourian.com.

~R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.