Since I've reconnected with my grade school friend Joe Pankowski, I've admired the compassion he holds for his wife and sons.
An attorney, he's in a profession that can wear on a marriage, but from all indications he's doing well. Through photos and conversations, he's exhibited a strong family dynamic.
I asked him how he's managed to avoid the pitfalls that have tripped up other attorneys, and he told me one thing that left me in complete disbelief.
He doesn't own a mobile phone.
"Never have. Never will."
Don't you find that amazing?
"I think lawyers tend to focus too much on their careers rather than their families," he explained. "I have made it a point to completely separate my law practice life from my home life."
The lawyers I know often speak of being on call all the time. He tells potential clients if they need a 24/7 attorney, they need to find someone else.
"They're letting the clients lead them around by the nose instead of being the clients' counselor," Pankowski said.
Pankowski, who handles wills, trusts and probate, concedes he couldn't manage such a unique lifestyle choice as a corporate attorney with deals flying all the time. It helps he's in his 50s, an equity partner and not in the position of having to meet the demands of older partners.
Of the 22 attorneys at his firm, he's the only one that doesn't own a mobile phone.
No, I said, you're the only one in America who doesn't own a mobile phone. Turns out I'm not that far off. According to a Pew Research Center survey, 95 percent of Americans own a cellphone of some kind, and the share of Americans that own smartphones is now 77 percent, up from just 35 percent in 2011.
But an informal Facebook survey revealed there are some folks out there who have not succumbed to the smartphone ball and chain. Some of my friends cited parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles who still rely on a landline.
Another friend said, "My 8-year-old stepdaughter doesn't own one. But not for lack of trying." A third asked, "I wish I didn't. Does that count?"
Me? I carried a flip phone for the longest time, refusing to yield to modern technology. My daughter threatened to run away if I bought another flip phone. So I gave in. Now, the iPhone has become all consuming. The apps, the Internet access, the connection to friends and family. I feel incomplete without it.
My daughter always tries to force me into admitting I like my iPhone. And it's true; if I mistakenly leave my iPhone at home, I feel naked. I turn around and go get it.
But we have some folks who persevere without one. Dare I say, they thrive.
Meet 94-year-old Mortimer Brown, a former University of South Florida professor and cancer survivor.
Doc Brown, as I call him, owns a stripped down cell phone. It has no apps, does not tell time, has no camera, nor connections to online merchants. He does not make or receive ordinary text messages with it. He owns it only for use in emergencies.
But he's a man grateful for what he possesses, not the limitations of his phone.
"I am blessed with a loving wife in a marriage of 73 years; two fine sons, a wonderful grandson, loyal friends, competent doctors, and a clean environment. I have no need for tweeting, or Facebooking, or that other stuff. For those who have a place for it in their lives, they should make good use of it. It is not my role to judge their life.
"I don't know whether or not anyone has become "enslaved" to this or that device, whether smart phone, automobile, or refrigerator. Their experiences with their things do not touch my life. I am more concerned with the apparent enslavement to unhealthy ideologies. These lead to behavior, which do affect me."
For years, Doc Brown has emailed kind notes to me as well as other Times columnists and writers. Sometimes he agrees. Sometimes he challenges us to rethink an opinion. But this, by far, is the wisest and most inspiring note I've received from him.
That's all I'm saying.