Time Passes

                        Gordon Studer

It's happened: I have turned into one of those people. You know, one of those "back in my day" people. But given the situation, it's hard not to.

Yesterday: Fifty years ago, The Beatles arrived. That's a long time ago, but I still know all the words to all their songs and in which order they came on what album. They were so nice: their first big hit was called "I Wanna Hold Your Hand." (Ha!) Back then, people kept all their original body parts, and you could tell right away who was old and who wasn't, and what gender they were too. Air travel was fun and exciting and you got dressed up for it, instead of taking off most of your clothes in public just to get on the plane. Broadway was serious business, with its own set of distinctive performers. Conversation was an art, practiced openly and without shame by just about everyone.

Today: Language has been distilled to the barest of essentials. LOL is what you do instead of laugh. Tweeting thoughts of 140 characters is common, and something called a hashtag placed in front of a single word speaks volumes. Cursive is no longer taught in schools, although oddly enough, there are still schools. I'm getting a new hip installed one of these days, just because the old one is worn out. Everyone's getting one--or two--along with new knees and butts and chins and breasts, and it seems like they're all pretty happy with the results.

Tomorrow: Total body transplants. Food pills. Personal intercranial computers. God only knows. I won't be here for it, but I hope my son likes it. If liking is still done.