The town of Keene was one of the last far-flung outposts on the planet to get service. We’d watch tourists pacing back and forth on the street staring helplessly at their mobile phones. When they complained they “couldn’t get any bars,” we would suggest the Ausable Inn or Baxter Mountain tavern, unfamiliar as we were with mobile technology jargon. Or, we wondered, could they be talking about bears?

It was rumored that there were spots nearby where a cell phone would work.

“You might want to try the top of Owl’s Head Mountain,” we’d say, to be helpful.

In 2007, members of the Keene Town Board expressed confidence that cell service was coming soon. Verizon built a so-called Frankenpine — a phone tower cleverly disguised as a pine tree — behind Keene Valley Neighborhood House, and then we waited years for it to be put to use.

The popular, if apocryphal, story is that in September, 2011, when Gov. Andrew Cuomo came to view the flood damage caused by Tropical Storm Irene, he demanded that our phone tower be “turned on” to improve communication during states of emergency, and thus it was done. Not everyone was in favor, but the tide had turned.

In the past, when I went to other towns, I was disconcerted to see people wandering zombielike, oblivious to one another and to their surroundings as they carried on loud, apparently one-sided conversations and passionate arguments holding little phones up to their ears. The words of Yogi Ram Dass, “Be here now!” that once so inspired Steve Jobs apparently meant nothing to them. Now, of course, it’s the same way here and we’re used to it.

I’ve been reading the novel “Straight Man” by Richard Russo, and I keep noticing that the people in the story can’t get in touch with each other at important junctures. “She wasn’t home,” they tell each other, or “Where could he be? I called the number he left me!” The characters are always rushing to their offices to pick up their messages or home to listen to their answering machines. They look up numbers in the phone book. I ask myself, Why don’t they just use their cellphones? When was this book written, anyway?

Oh, I see. Copyright 1997. It made me stop and think about how much mobile phones have changed our lives. Almost as much as Google and social media have.

The town of Keene was slow getting street numbers, too, and roads didn’t necessarily have official names. In 2003, to meet state-mandated 911 requirements, all roads had to be named, with street signs, and all buildings numbered. When local residents gave directions, it was often by landmarks: The Mobile Station, the split rock. The Snow Goose Lodge was known as the Old Mae Broe place, although Mae Broe had not lived there for longer than most people could remember. Mason Young Road used to be known as the Hardware Road, or Happy Hill, after Happy Miner, a former resident.

In order to help emergency medical technicians, firefighters and police, everything had to be made official. This also made deliveries much easier.

Before that, because UPS and Fed-Ex required street addresses, we invented addresses when ordering. Mine was Number Two Main Street, Keene Valley. I thought that had a good ring to it. Number One seemed a little pretentious.

Even after the 911 mandates, some people dragged their feet and wouldn’t put up house numbers.

It’s a wonder any of us ever received any letters or parcels, when you think about it. The people who worked at the post office put our mail into the right box even if it was addressed as “Roy Bixby, Town.”

Had we not been blessed with Randy, the legendary UPS guy, our town would have been in deep trouble. Randy paid no attention to the faked addresses. He knew where we lived as well as where we were employed and where we might be found at any given time. He was friends with every human and dog along his route. We used to say that Randy could go into detective work when he retired. Not that anyone wanted him to retire. Finally he did, though, and then the last holdouts had to put up their house numbers.

Have a good week.

(Martha Allen, of Keene Valley, has been writing for the Lake Placid News for more than 20 years.)