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Maggie Smith
Foreign
I'm Maggie Smith and this is the Slowdown. It's probably happened to you before your
phone rings, and when you pick it
up and say hi or what's up?
There's no one there to greet you.
Instead, you hear muffled talking or ambient sounds in the background. Traffic or music or television.
Ah, you realize this person didn't mean to call me. It's a strangely intimate thing, the pocket dial.
When we are on the receiving end,
we find ourselves listening from a tucked away place, close to someone's body. It's a pitfall of carrying our devices with us.
Previous generations, generations who grew up without
cell phones, didn't have to contend with things like pocket dials. When it happens to me, I scramble to hang up right away. I'm essentially eavesdropping without trying, and I'd hate to overhear something I shouldn't. The other person doesn't even realize I'm listening. It's a perfect setup for an embarrassing disaster. On the other hand, as today's poem shows us, a pocket dial might also offer us a a tender look at and a tender listen into life without our presence. Pocket Dial by James Davis May
after
my three hellos go unanswered and I hear plate clatter and cutlery chimes while a waiter catalogs the specials of a restaurant somewhere in Pittsburgh. I know I'm in my father's blazer, nestled near his heart where he keeps his phone, and see him at the
table with my mother, ear angled toward
the server, his Depression era palate unimpressed
if not dismayed by the mention of
truffle aioli, microgreens and butternut squash risotto, but at least this time withholding his opinion so my mother can select her champagne in peace and then ask for
more time to decide her entree.
The server gone, they resume the conversation that preceded me, that is, that preceded
my listening, which I resume as well,
not catching much of what they say but knowing somehow from their tones that they are happy tonight in their far off presence. So much so it feels almost as
though I'm eavesdropping on the afterlife.
Imagine for them as they eat bread, surrounded by good light and a soundtrack of general pleasure, the living world and its sadness reduced all the way down to a small tremor in a small voice that says it loves them.
The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter. Find us on Instagram lodownshow and bluesky slowdownshow.org the slowdown is written by me, Maggie Smith. The show is produced by Micah Kielbon and Maria Wurtel. Our music is composed by Kyle Andrews, engineering by Derek Ramirez and Maurizio Tirico. Our editor and digital producer is Jordan Turgeon. Additional production help by Susanna Sharpless, Ruby Sigmund and Lauren Humpert. APM's Director of Distribution is Amy Lundgren and our president is Chandra Kavati.
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Episode 1546: Pocket Dial by James Davis May
Host: Maggie Smith
Date: June 26, 2026
In this episode, host Maggie Smith introduces and reflects on the poem "Pocket Dial" by James Davis May. Through a quiet meditation on accidental intimacy—a pocket-dialed phone call—Smith explores how modern technology offers us unexpected glimpses into the unguarded lives of loved ones. The poem serves as a springboard for musings about presence, absence, and the tenderness of listening in on a moment not meant for us.
Maggie begins with a universally relatable scenario: receiving an accidental phone call, only to hear ambient background noises, not a greeting.
"Instead, you hear muffled talking or ambient sounds in the background. Traffic or music or television." (01:01)
She reflects on the unique intimacy of such a moment:
"We find ourselves listening from a tucked away place, close to someone's body." (01:24)
Smith contrasts this phenomenon with the experiences of previous generations, underscoring how smartphones create new forms of vulnerability and connection:
"Previous generations, generations who grew up without cell phones, didn't have to contend with things like pocket dials." (01:35)
She confesses her own discomfort with overhearing private moments, describing the accidental eavesdropping as "a perfect setup for an embarrassing disaster." (01:46)
Maggie introduces and reads the poem in full, using it as an example of how a pocket dial can become "a tender look at and a tender listen into life without our presence." (01:57)
The poem begins with a missed connection—unanswered hellos and the realization of being accidentally called.
"after my three hellos go unanswered and I hear plate clatter and cutlery chimes..." (02:32)
The poem’s perspective shifts: the speaker imagines themselves as being physically close to their father—"nestled near his heart where he keeps his phone" (02:50)—while overhearing parents at dinner.
Intimate family dynamics are observed:
The beauty of overheard happiness is gently layered over the moment:
"knowing somehow from their tones that they are happy tonight in their far off presence." (03:44)
The speaker frames the experience as both real and ghostly, as if eavesdropping on a life after one’s own presence:
"it feels almost as though I'm eavesdropping on the afterlife." (04:00)
Poignant conclusions are drawn about what it means to listen in—to witness worldly joy at a distance, and to feel love as a tremor:
"...the living world and its sadness reduced all the way down to a small tremor in a small voice that says it loves them." (04:04)
"We find ourselves listening from a tucked away place, close to someone's body." – Maggie Smith (01:24)
"I'd hate to overhear something I shouldn't. The other person doesn't even realize I'm listening." – Maggie Smith (01:46)
"Knowing somehow from their tones that they are happy tonight in their far off presence." – James Davis May, read by Maggie Smith (03:44)
"It feels almost as though I'm eavesdropping on the afterlife." – James Davis May, read by Maggie Smith (04:00)
"The living world and its sadness reduced all the way down to a small tremor in a small voice that says it loves them." – James Davis May, read by Maggie Smith (04:04)
Maggie Smith’s approach is gentle, contemplative, and empathetic, guiding listeners to savor small, unexpected gifts of attention and connection—themes reinforced by both her framing and the chosen poem.
This summary covers the central themes, detailed insights, and emotional highlights of the episode, providing a rich overview for those who did not listen but want to appreciate the nuances and message of "Pocket Dial."