Y’all should be proud of me because I finally got around to hopping into the 21st Century. I’ve been laughed at quite a bit for my Flintstone iPhone but frankly, it became a badge of honor for me.

But no more. I broke down and got a new iPhone 8. But it wasn’t easy; not because of the cost (though they don’t give them away), but I had developed quite an attachment to my 4S.

That’s right — I “doubled” my phone generations in one online purchase.

The last time I bought a cell phone, the New Orleans Saints had just won the Super Bowl and the Winter Olympics were going on in Vancouver. The Tea Party was gathering momentum — please no jokes about it being the original Tea Party — and Derek Jeter was a shortstop, not an owner. It was 2010. Yeah, I said it.

People would ask why don’t I get a newer model and in an absolute concession to my advanced age, I would respond by saying the famed geezer line of “Why would I get a new one if the one I have isn’t broken?”

Which it wasn’t, by the way. Many times when the ridicule began to get irritating, I’d whip out my phone and ask them to look at the cracks on the face.

“I don’t see any cracks,” they would say.

“My point exactly.”

I couldn’t even buy a case for it anymore. The chargers were almost obsolete. But my iPhone was like Cal Ripken — showed up everyday and gave maximum effort.

But just like Ripken, age began to take its toll. Battery life became a joke. And forget about trying to watch a video. Stall City.

So I threw up the metaphorical white flag. I pushed six buttons on a website and three days later, I had a new BFF.  To be honest, it feels kinda nice to have finally closed the gap with the rest of the world (relatively speaking). After eight years, I figured the ghost of Steve Jobs would get me back and the new one would last 8 days. But all is good.

However, I’m still keeping the Flintstone iPhone. Just in case.