My resolve broke down. I finally got one of those newfangled phones that does everything but feed you (now there’s an idea!).

Actually, it wasn’t an overt breakdown. I mean, I didn’t go out and buy it. I meekly accepted it as a gift from my youngest offspring, who was muttering something about “time to come into the 21st century.”

It is, in fact, a technological marvel. I can instantly access the time and date, weather, and national and world news (print or video). It has a camera that takes photos or video and loads them into my computer. I can keep notes, play games, listen to music, and find nearby hotels, restaurants and ATMs and how to get there just by asking it.

I don’t even have to say “please.” Oh, I almost forgot; I can also text-message and even call people!

There is no way I will ever text-message because I can’t stand murdering the king’s English by writing something like “c u tmrw.” Not gonna happen, as George H.W. Bush might say.

I recently read a novel in which the heroine was saved from a maniacal killer by surreptitiously slipping her phone out of her back pocket (with her hands tied behind her back) and text-messaging her lover. Ha! I’d definitely be dead.

I have managed, on my own, to save a few phone numbers for speed-dialing and to record some notes, such as the date and time of my hair appointment and the artCentral reception for oil and charcoal artist Frank Young. It’s at 6 p.m. Friday, by the way, and wine and refreshments will be served.

If I can remember that I’ve recorded those reminders, looking them up should be much more efficient than rummaging through my purse for an appointment card or searching for a small note on a crowded refrigerator door.

There’s no doubt it will take weeks for me to master this crafty little device if I want to take full advantage of its features. Meanwhile, I have to figure out what to do with my late-20th century cell phones that are too lame to take a photograph, give me instant news, or tell me where to go and how to get there. I do have a clue because I did it before when I upgraded from the pound-size cell phone to the slimmer version.

Cell Phones for Soldiers is a not-for-profit organization founded in 2004 by two teenage siblings, Brittany and Robbie Bergquist, of Norwell, Mass. The group accepts donated phones and sells them to ReCellular, a company that refurbishes and recycles old phones. The money raised is used to buy calling cards to send to U.S. troops all over the world. Everyone knows that overseas calls are dreadfully expensive. Each donated cell phone translates into one hour of free talking time.

All you have to do is slip your old phones into a mailing envelope and ship them to Cell Phone Recycling Center, 2555 Bishop Circle West, Dexter, MI 48130. You can even go to cellphonesforsoldiers.com and print out a prepaid shipping label. But, if you pay the postage yourself, it provides a bit more talking time for the troops. You also can take the phones to three drop-off sites in Joplin: American Red Cross, 410 S. Jackson Ave.; Power Sports, 4722 E. 32nd St.; or Skaggs Chiropractic, 1521 E. 20th St.

It’s such an easy thing to do, and who needs old phones lying around anyway? This simple task will allow troops and their families to enjoy the most important role a phone can ever impart: hearing the voice of a loved one on the other end. Unless, of course, those technology wizards come up with a phone that feeds a family of four.