On the other hand, I, who remember my childhood phone number and how calling Grandma and Grandpa was on a rare Sunday when a 5-minute call was cheaper, am somewhat relieved that I have no telephone. I simply could not get our local provider to install a landline (my preference) in my new home. So much for 40 years a customer.
The benefits of this form of communication -- telephone -- were spoiled for me by its abuse by friends and foe alike who know nothing of telephone etiquette: a call that Brother Garrulous keeps going for two-plus hours, an alcoholic "friend" who calls a dozen times a day and makes you feel guilty for not picking up, telemarketers who are incredulous that you ask for their personal number so you can call and interrupt their dinner, ad infinitum . . .
I'm all right with emailing and personal visits. I email Brother Garrulous I'll be over to visit, and when his nonstop chatter wears me out, I get up and say there's a dog waiting for me to walk it.
No lie there.