My mother has a cordless phone, it's big and bulky, and sits on the kitchen counter next to her analog clock. According to my twenty-eight year old son, analog clock tutorials are becoming very popular because most people use their cell phones to tell time.
I still remember a world where phones came with cords, but my daughter doesn't. She can text, talk, play games and listen to a podcast at the same time on a phone little bigger than her hand. The world is full of people texting, talking, listening to podcasts and showing people their virtual photo albums. When I go into work, you can bet I whip out my phone the minute someone shows me pictures of their kid, all the better to show mine.
We've gone from hand cranks to smartphones everywhere except contemporary romance. Most contemporaries are about twentysomethings, but the trouble is, they're not written by twentysomethings. If you're dialing "0" on your ten digit Jitterbug to talk with a live operator you might want to spend quality research time checking out current behaviors.
Memories are static. A contemporary happens now.
Everything we write is colored by our experiences and attitudes, and while it can be changed, sometimes it's unconscious. The person who doesn't use a phone isn't going to think of providing one for her heroine in the same way a writer's use of swearwords or her handling of controversial subject matter reflects her comfort level.
We are what we write, although that would probably be better as "we write what we are."