I think young people don't appreciate that when you're in your

Martin Cooper, father of the mobile phone and herald of a new age, once spoke with humility and foresight: “I think young people don’t appreciate that when you’re in your 70s, you’ll lose patience for techie stuff and you may decide that you want a simple device.” This is no idle musing, but the wisdom of one who has lived long enough to see the cycle of invention and the shifting needs of generations. He reminds us that while technology grows ever more complex, the human heart in its later years longs not for intricacy, but for simplicity — not for more features, but for more peace.

For youth, the allure of the new is irresistible. The young run eagerly toward the latest device, embracing every complexity, every hidden function, every dazzling innovation. Their energy is vast, their patience abundant, and their curiosity unquenchable. But Cooper, with the eyes of age, shows that this abundance does not last forever. With the passing of years, the hunger for complexity fades, replaced by a longing for clarity. What once excited becomes burdensome; what once entertained becomes noise. And so the wise elder chooses simplicity, not out of weakness, but out of a deeper understanding of what truly matters.

History has always echoed this rhythm. The Roman philosopher Seneca once wrote that as we grow older, we learn to prize not the accumulation of things, but the serenity of the soul. The bustling cities, the endless pursuits of wealth, the chaos of ambition — these mattered once, but in old age, he said, men seek quiet gardens and clear speech. So too with technology: what is thrilling in youth becomes wearisome in age, and the heart seeks tools that are not dazzling, but dependable.

Consider the story of Konosuke Matsushita, founder of Panasonic. In his later years, though surrounded by countless innovations, he sought to design devices so simple that even a child or an elder could use them without instruction. He understood, as Cooper declares, that the true power of technology lies not in its complexity but in its ability to serve human needs across every stage of life. A device that confuses the old is incomplete, for it fails to serve the whole of humanity.

This truth carries a deeper lesson for the young. They may laugh at simplicity, dismissing it as weakness or irrelevance. Yet one day, they too will feel the burden of endless updates, of features stacked upon features, of the constant demand to relearn what once was mastered. Cooper’s words are a gentle prophecy: that time humbles even the most eager mind, and in the evening of life, the soul craves not complexity but ease, not novelty but stability.

The meaning is profound: patience for complexity is finite, but the need for connection is eternal. A phone, a device, or any tool should not enslave us to its mechanics, but liberate us to live more fully. Simplicity is not a retreat from progress but a refinement of it — the distilling of invention down to its purest essence, where form serves function and life is made lighter.

Therefore, let the listener act with wisdom: embrace technology in youth, but learn also to value simplicity, for one day you will need it. Do not mock those who choose the simple path, for they may see more clearly what you do not yet understand. And as you build, design, or innovate, remember that the greatest tool is not the most complex, but the one that serves all — the young, the strong, the weak, and the old alike. For Martin Cooper has spoken as a prophet of our age: in the twilight of life, simplicity is the crown of wisdom, and patience is too precious to waste on needless complexity.