I've always enjoyed the company of lawyers. You show me a really good lawyer, and I'll show you a fascinating person who enjoys life and is fun to be around

One of the reasons I am a bar junkie is that I just like to hang out with lawyers. I like to drink with lawyers, break bread with lawyers, and share war stories with lawyers.

I like to vacation with lawyers, play golf with lawyers, and go to Vol football games with lawyers.

My dearest friends are lawyers, and for the past 20 years, I've slept with a lawyer. (IMPORTANT NOTE TO MY WIFE: Honey, I'm talking about you, dear.)

Heck, I even like to be around tax lawyers, although I did hear someone once say that you'll never know the meaning of the word "boring" until you meet a tax lawyer who is training for his first marathon.

Don't get me wrong. I'm no Will Rogers. I can't say that I've never met a lawyer I didn't like. But my favorite people are lawyers, and what I enjoy most about being a lawyer is the camaraderie of other lawyers.

But brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law, I am concerned about the future of our profession. I'm afraid that many of us, myself included, aren't nearly as interesting or fun as we used to be.

Recently I've noticed an alarming trend, specifically, the geeking of the profession. I blame this trend on modern communications technology.

Based on my extensive research conducted in courthouses and conference rooms across the Volunteer State, I've developed what I call Haltom's Law of Techno-Geek Advancement: There is an inverse relationship between the sophistication of a lawyer's gadgets and the quality of that lawyer's personality.

To put it more bluntly, the more sophisticated technological toys we lawyers obtain, the nerdier we become.

If you don't believe me, conduct your own research as follows: Strike up a conversation with a trial lawyer over the age of 50. You'll find it to be a delightful experience. You'll hear colorful war stories about trials or maybe you'll find yourself in an engaging discussion about good books or theatre or the finer points of hunting and fishing. Your conversation will be uninterrupted, unless the trial lawyer offers to buy you a drink.

Now try to strike up a conversation with a litigator who is a carrying a hand-held combination remote Internet access PDA pager mobile cell phone. First, you probably won't be able to have a conversation with this lawyer because he or she will be too busy talking into their remote Internet access whachimacallit to some other techno-lawyer who, at that very moment, will be about to cause a lawsuit because he is driving 80 miles per hour on Interstate 40 while trying to access the Internet on his Blackberry Palm Nimbus 2000.

In the unlikely event that Mr. or Ms. Robo-Lawyer quits talking like Captain Kirk into his Handspring Doohickie VII and finally talks to you, guess what he or she will talk to you about. War stories? No way. Good books or fishing and hunting? Forgetaboutit!

So help me, the only thing Techno-lawyer will discuss with you is his or her new hand-held remote Internet access PDA Visor and how it works.

Talk about a fascinating conversation! It will be enough to make you desperately search for a tax lawyer who is training for her first marathon.

This whole trend of the techno-geek lawyer started, innocently enough, with pagers. I still remember the first time I ever saw a lawyer wearing a pager. I was sitting in a deposition back during the Reagan years when suddenly my adversary across the table started chirping like a cricket on speed. I had no idea why he was going off like a smoke alarm.

My chirping adversary then grabbed his crotch and pushed some button to turn off the alarm.

"What in tarnation was that?" I asked.

"My pager," he responded. "I've got to make a phone call."

"Got some client in the emergency room needing a legal bypass?" I asked.

Of course, the days of chirping lawyers are long over. Now modern techno-lawyers wear something called a "vibrating pager." These days I'll be sitting in a deposition asking questions, when suddenly my adversary sitting across from me will smile, sigh softly, and then announce that his vibrating pager is telling him it's time to make a phone call on his remote Internet access Raspberry XII.

Again, don't get me wrong. I'm not saying we lawyers shouldn't have cell phones or Internet accessors or even vibrating pagers. Frankly, I wouldn't mind having one of those vibrating pagers myself, only I'm afraid I wouldn't know how to strap it on. I sure wouldn't want to shock myself.

But what I am saying is that if we lawyers spend every working hour talking about our gadgets, we'll become about as interesting as your typical CPA, or worse yet, your typical actuary.

Think for a moment about the heroes of our profession. Did they sit around talking about their gadgets? Can you imagine Clarence Darrow saying to William Jennings Bryant, "Hey, Bill, look at my new pen! It's called a "ballpoint"!"

And how about the great Atticus Finch? Can you envision him interrupting a conference with Tom Robinson so he could use his Palm Pilot to send an e-mail to radleyboo@mockingbird.com?

So I implore you, my fellow lawyers! Let's quit talking about our gadgets! When we get together, let's turn off our cell phones and Blackberries and Strawberries, and for God's sake, please don't show me your vibrating pager!

Tell me a war story about a colorful lawyer or a judge from days gone by. Talk with me about the Vols or hunting or fishing or that new book about Teddy Roosevelt.

And if you promise me you'll never say a word about your new vibrating Handspring Visor VII, I'll even buy you a drink.

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Bill Haltom, who will show you his if you show him yours, works as a partner with the Memphis firm of Thomason, Hendrix, Harvey, Johnson & Mitchell and is immediate past president of the Memphis Bar Association.