At the risk of giving away my real age, I can remember watching cartoons on a black and white television. I can remember using rotary phones and the excitement of having my father—who worked for the telephone company—bring home the first push-button telephone I’d ever seen. I remember learning to type on an honest-to-goodness typewriter, and not an electric one, either. I wrote my first—unpublished—manuscript on a word-processor. I can certainly remember what things were like before cell-phones, when you took your life in your hands going on a daytrip in the car. What if you had a flat tire in the middle of nowhere, and no way to phone for a tow-truck? You might be stuck overnight, miles from anywhere! And you know what? I’m not as old as you think. That all happened within the past 40 years. Hell, most of it happened within the past 20. Some of it within the past ten. I bought my first cell phone in 2005. Seven years ago now. Almost eight. It wasn’t a smart-phone, either. It didn’t take pictures. It didn’t play music. I couldn’t surf the internet on it. It was a phone. One I could use to call…