“What will you do when you get lonely?….”

I had to buy a new phone recently.  I had nursed my old Nokia along for eight years, but finally, it gave up the ghost.  So over to T-Mobile I went and plunked down my hard-earned cash for a brainy little iPhone that does all my work for me.

(In fact, my new phone is writing this post today.  I’m at my Malibu house playing beach volley ball with my twenty-five year old blonde surfer boyfriend as we speak.)

The new phone presented me with a new challenge.

Choosing a ring tone.

Now this is exactly the kind of test that I love.  Given pretty much all the music in the world to pick from, what snippet of song would best:

1.  Alert me to a new caller.

2.  Put me in the proper frame of mind to answer the phone.

3.  Represent me.  Be my musical avatar, if you will.

This was going to take some hard thinking.

(But I adore hard thinking- almost as much as twenty-five year old blonde volley ball players.)

First I thought about singers I love.

Sam Cooke, Marvin Gaye,*** Reba McIntyre, Vince Gill, Hank Williams, John Raitt, Bonnie Raitt, Patsy Cline, Aretha Franklin…

Nope, the more I kept adding to the list, the more confused I got.

***Marvin Gaye Musical Sidebar:  When I was race director for Michael Reese Hospital’s Medical Research Institute Council (read post “See Michael Reese Run” if you haven’t already) I used “Let’s Get It On” as my theme music for my race info hotline.

The only problem was no one ever left a coherent message. They would stay on the phone so long- enjoying Marvin as he cooed, wailed and musically seduced his fifteen year old inamorata- that there was never enough tape left to leave more than a first name and then… BEEP!

Then I tried the random “Pandora Radio” method.  You know- a kind of a scattershot approach- a hit or miss sampling of some of the music I love.  Maybe that would trigger a Rorschach ring tone.

I cycled through “Enlightenment” by Van Morrison, “Hey Baby,” by Bruce Channel (that harmonica opening was a real contender there for awhile), “Dream,” by the Everly Brothers, “What a Fool Believes,” by the Doobie Brothers, “Some Enchanted Evening” by Ezio Pinza, “Mr. Sandman,” by the great Chet Atkins, “That’s All” by Genesis, “Blackbird,” by the Beatles, “New York State of Mind” by Billy Joel, ” and “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?” by The Shirelles.

And still nada.

All groovy but no compelling spark of inspiration was ignited.

But then I went to the iTunes on my iPad, and as I casually scrolled through the albums…

Bingo!

I saw it.

The greatest opening guitar riff in history.

And no, it is not “Satisfaction.”

(Yes, I know.  A BOLD statement.  And yes, I am prepared to take on Rolling Stone Magazine, The Rolling Stones and every other person of my generation over this.)

I knew instantly that I had found my theme song.

Not only did I love the song and the singer, I completely identified with the subject of the song itself.

I had to have it on my new phone.

No sooner than I downloaded it than I got my first call.  I was so enchanted by my new song that I let it play a little bit.

It was a friend from Aspen.  Let’s let’s call him Eric.

“What’s up, E?” he asked.  “How ya doing?”

“Oh, Eric.  Glad you called.  Cool news.  I just bought a new phone and guess what my ring tone is?”

I could feel him blanche over the phone waves.

“Um, I don’t know.  I’m afraid to guess. That could be anything.”

“I’ll give you a hint,” I said magnanimously.  “I totally identify with the song’s subject.  You know, the person about whom the song was written.”

“OMG,” he gulped.  “Again, that could be anybody.  I have NO idea. Uh, Napoleon? Mickey Mantle? Was there a song written about John Le Carré?”

“You’re not even close, Eric.  I’ll get back to you.”

My new phone sang out again.  It was Charlotte, my BFF and lifestyle guru.  (if you’re not acquainted with her please read my No Sex and the City post.)

“Charlotte?  I’ve got a new ring tone and I want you to guess what it is!”

“How can you care about something as banal as a ‘ring tone?’  I was only calling to tell you that because Eugene Fama, Lars Peter Hansen and Robert Shiller won the Nobel Prize in Economics this week, I’m giving a small soirée in their honor…”

“Ooh, I’d love to come to that.  Thanks.  When is it?”

“Who said anything about you attending?” she said (sweetly.)  “I need you to write me a casual- yet brilliant- welcoming speech.  And I need it by three this afternoon.  I’m meeting with the florists now.  Get to work.”

No sooner had she hung up when…

“Hey, E.  It’s Miranda.”  (Another bestie. See “No Sex…” if you haven’t already.  And why haven’t you?)

“Hey, Miranda.  Guess what?  I’ve got a new phone and I just downloaded the greatest ring tone and…

“Hold on a minute, E.  Brunhilde, now be a good girl and go lie down.  Mommy will walk you when she’s off the phone with Auntie Ellen.  Now, Brunhilde, stop whining.  I mean it! I just walked you.  You couldn’t possibly have to go out again.  Oh, alright, wait a minute. I’ll get your leash.  Stop  pulling! I’m hanging up now.  Please sweetie, be a good girl for Mommy….”

And she was gone.

All afternoon my phone gave forth with its new dynamite ring tone.  And I posed the same question to anyone who called.  (Including the guy scheduling my new window coverings delivery.)

No one knew the answer.  No one even came close.

And then I got an email from Nick.

(He seldom uses the phone.)

And so I typed: “What’s my new ring tone?  Hint: I completely identify with the subject of the song.”  And in three seconds flat came back his response.

“Layla.  Easy one, Dude.”

That’s my boy.

Got to go now.  My iPhone is demanding a pay raise and health insurance.

And a blonde California surfer/volley ball player boyfriend.

Later, dudes.

And call me.