I'm old.

There was going to be more to that thought, but it encapsulates and prefaces what's to follow, so I'll leave it at that.

I'm fifty-four and remember life before smartphones, cell phones, voicemail, and even answering machines. I know the sounds of a busy signal and the endless ringing when someone wasn't home to answer their phone.

I was old enough to drive before seeing my first cell phone in the wild. Old enough to drink before they were becoming even a little common. I was thirty when my wife and I bought one that we barely used. Five years later we each had one and disconnected our landline. For my fortieth birthday in 2008, I received an iPhone.

And all hell broke loose.

My attention fractured and my life increasingly revolves around the slab of glass and plastic usually in my pocket and almost always within reach.

My bet is that your phone is in your hand, pocket, or arm's reach as you read this. If not, leave a comment saying so.

This persistent proximity had me feeling old as I recalled a crucial fact from way back:

Telephones used to be in another room.

Our phone hung in the kitchen. My friend had a phone upstairs too, waiting on a telephone seat in the hallway. There were no phones in the living room, dining room, or den. And on vacations, we used payphone that were a walk or drive away.

Just before sitting in the living room to write this, I parked my phone in the kitchen. As I've been writing, I've thought of no fewer than three things to look up on my phone. Habits are strong, but I'm too lazy to go grab my phone.

Most nights, I leave the phone in the kitchen when I go to bed.

A few evenings ago, while my wife, daughters, and I "watched" a television show, I saw that each of us was staring at our phones. I put my phone in the kitchen and found enough attention to enjoy the show.

Telephones used to be in another room.

I know this makes me sound old, mostly because I am. I'm not suggesting what you should do, but I'm glad to try going back to having a phone that is out of reach. I can still hear if it rings or dings, but with it in another room I feel focused, peaceful, and maybe just a bit younger. Even though I'm old.