It happened. I suppose it was inevitable. We held off for as long as we could, maintaining our status as being one of the last families on the planet not to own cell phones.

Even Oprah had resisted getting a cell phone. “I would walk down the street and pass people talking on their cell phones, and I’d think, ‘What could possibly be so important that they can’t wait until they get home?’” Then came September 11, and Oprah learned of the many who perished in the Twin Towers who had been able to contact loved ones on their cell phones to express their love and last farewell. After that, Oprah got herself a cell phone.

We did not.

Although we knew of the benefits of having cell phones for safety and convenience, we were not willing to leave our comfort zone and take on the added expense of having them.

But our daughter Merrie had no choice, really. She was graduating from high school this year and preparing to attend college in another state. Her years of high school in which she had endured without complaint the deprivation of not having her own cell phone, were over.

Now Merrie needed a cell phone to take to college, since student apartments are no longer equipped with land lines as they were when I went to college 40 years ago, with every roommate sharing in the cost of the phone bill. Now each student must carry her own communication system with her—on her body or in her purse—at all times. We acknowledged her need—and she would be the one paying the $48 monthly cost for the mobile phone service. We were glad that she would be able to communicate so readily with us from college. In the meantime, we intended to continue as we had always done.

Then one day it came in the mail: the offer from Merrie’s mobile phone provider. If we would switch over to The Family Plan, both of her parents, as well as her high school-aged brother Evan, could also have cell phones for only a small amount more than Merrie was paying for her own phone. Furthermore, we realized that if we were brave enough to give up our land line, that savings would go a long way toward paying for the use of all of those cell phones. We were hooked, so to speak.

Being technologically challenged, the thought of giving up our land line was downright scary for me. We had a total of 10 telephones throughout the house. There was a phone in every room except storage rooms and bathrooms—two in the kitchen and in the master bedroom, so we both could have the privilege of answering the phone in the night or of listening in together on conversations.

I’d felt secure in knowing that, no matter where I was in the house, there would be a telephone just a few steps away. But within days, that security would be stripped from me, and all of our 10 phones would be laid to rest—obsolete. I was, however, greatly comforted to learn that our old land line number could be used for my personal cell phone.

I was filled with questions and fears: How was I supposed to carry my cell phone with me? What if I wasn’t wearing pockets or even a waist band? Would I have to wear it around my neck somehow? And wouldn’t my fingers, not to mention my thumbs, be too big for those teeny tiny number buttons?

I was filled with trepidation. With my hearing loss (totally deaf in one ear and with a 50% loss in the other), what if I wouldn’t be able to understand the voice in the phone—or even hear it when it rang? What if I forgot to charge it up? And the biggest fear of all: What if my brain wouldn’t be able to grasp and remember all the new things I’d have to learn in order to operate the thing? I was techno-wary. What if my technological ineptness and my dislike for all things new would make this whole switch a nightmare?

We did have a resident smart kid in our 15-year-old son. And there was our daughter’s assurance from college: “I promise you, Mom, that in 30 days you’ll wonder how you ever lived without it.” (Now, at 60, I can see that giving birth to these high-tech offspring when I was 41 and 44, has proven to be very helpful in this situation.)

And so, on this very day, my own new cell phone rang for the first time. Evan had let me choose and he set up a pretty ring tone for me. I must admit, hearing it ring was rather exciting.

And also on this very day, Merrie and I shared a heart-to-heart, mother-daughter conversation lasting an hour and a half. Priceless. No long distance charges, and even without having to count the time as minutes used, since all our family phones, obviously, are within the same network.

We even have unlimited texting, although I somehow find it perversely amusing that people would waste so much time typing their little messages back and forth when they could be speaking voice-to-voice. I have even heard of teenagers texting each other as they stood side by side. I think it must be addictive; that would explain everything.

Now that my phone is in operation, my husband and son are patiently trying to teach me, and I am impatiently trying to learn. I’m trusting that it will come with time and repetition.

But one thing remains sure and secure; and I have not relented on this point, nor will I capitulate: I still have the Postal Service. Believe it or not, my sister and I carry on a weekly correspondence, with long, hand-written letters. Is such a practice a relic from the past? Certainly. But there’s nothing like it.

TWO MONTHS LATER: Merrie was right. I wonder how I ever got along without it. It is so wonderful to be able to reach my family members whenever and wherever. As for keeping the phone with me, I purchased a very small fanny pack with soft, elasticized straps for 50 cents at a thrift store. Problem solved.