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"Give me the earbuds. GIVE ME THE EARBUDS! Thank you. Now turn off your phone. Give it to me. Thank you. Sit up. And now: Just listen \u2014 pretend I&amp;#039;m a talking text. That woman you so assiduously ignored after you mumbled &amp;quot;thanks&amp;quot; for the newest version of your\u2026habit\u2026is your grandmother \u2014 my mother. You got your musical talent from her: She was offered a scholarship to study voice in Vienna when she was 20 years old, but she opted instead to get married, have children, and devote her life to the care of others. Were it not for her selflessness, I would not be here. Nor would you. Nor would many other people you admire, like your cousin Isabel. Or your cousin Sammy, on whom you have a major crush \u2014 just listen, it&amp;#039;s no big deal. I was in love with my cousin Ned for a whole year, and one time we kissed. Your grandmother&amp;#039;s nickname was &amp;quot;Flash,&amp;quot; because she was such a good runner. She delivered someone&amp;#039;s baby when she was 10. At the same age, she smoked a cigar and threw up behind the barn. She makes piecrust from scratch, and she never measures anything when she makes all the fabulous food you love to eat. She can still shoot an arrow smack into the center of a target. She loves The Three Stooges and wrestling. And you. You are, in fact, her favorite grandchild, and I trust you&amp;#039;ll have the good sense not to broadcast that. RELATED: Why You Should Share Family Stories and Memories Aloud I&amp;#039;ve never told you all this because I&amp;#039;d hoped you would discover it yourself. But I fear now that you&amp;#039;ll never discover anything that doesn&amp;#039;t announce its urgency with a bleep. So here&amp;#039;s what I want you to do: I want you to sit in the chair I have stationed in the backyard. I want you to sit there for half an hour. I want you to look at the sky and the clouds, at how colors change when the sun is setting. I want you to hear the sound of voices carried from the house, of cars going down the street, of birds settling in for the night. And in between, I want you to hear silence. Do not interrupt me. If you do, I promise you I&amp;#039;ll take a hammer to this phone and pound on it until it is beyond broken.  I&amp;#039;ll tell you when time is up. That way, you can be free in a way that is very rare these days. You can float. When you come in, I want you to write a thank-you note. A thank-you note used to be called a bread-and-butter note, and I used to think it was called that because it was so good. Then I came to think it was called that because it was so basic and necessary and common. It&amp;#039;s not common anymore, though it should be. So you write a note to tell your grandmother thank you. Any way you&amp;#039;d like. And then tell her something else. Maybe it could be about something you saw while you were floating. She&amp;#039;d like that. And you know what? I think you would, too. Then I&amp;#039;ll give you your phone back. If I&amp;#039;m done playing with the apps. Elizabeth Berg is the author of many novels. Her latest, The Bird Lover, will be out in 2014. She lives in Mill Valley, CA. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/parenting/tips/a13898/going-wireless/?src=shelter_footer>