I was eating an ear of corn the other day and it occurred to me that little kids probably no longer make typewriter sounds when they eat them as we used to do. They’ve probably never even heard a typewriter outside of the movies. They’ve also never had to keep spare change handy for the payphone in case of emergency. Many of them have never hand written a letter and sent it through the post. And it seems that very few of them know the pure joy of playing kickball or stickball in the street in front of their house on a summer afternoon. Do they even crave bicycles for Christmas anymore?
But you know what the most horrible thing is? I’ve gotten old enough to say “Kids today.” I understand fewer and fewer pop culture references. I have no idea what clothes are in style. I am becoming my mother.
When did that happen? Was there a day when I went to bed as a “with it” person and then woke up the next morning woefully out of touch? More likely it was a slow, steady downward spiral of cultural detachment, that crept up on me without notice.
And who is really the detached one? I know what payphones look like, and I could still operate a typewriter if forced to. If the technology of the world devolved 40 years for some reason, I’d survive just fine. Kids today panic if they lose their cell phone signal.
And yet… and yet… I don’t know who the Duggars are, and don’t care enough to Google them. And for some reason that’s supposed to be a bad thing.