A Curmudgeon Fights Back

I slipped and fell into the generation gap.

I'm 47. Sometimes, I feel half that.

But, lately, double.

Because, whether it's my new reading glasses, or the fact that I actually injured my shoulder playing Wii baseball and my elbow by mowing the lawn, I've realized that I am getting older.

I know, I know. We all get older. But, for some reason, I thought I had a special dispensation, a "Get Out of Aging" card. And with getting older, I've also been feeling a growing want for things of the past.

Like taking pictures with cameras, where we had to actually take the film to be processed, and wait several days. That distinct anticipation as we opened the envelope.

Now, my pictures are sitting on my phone and computer, and I can't get fingerprints on them.

And newspapers and books. Yes, they’re still around, but I feel them going. I'm at a wake, commenting on how life-like they look in the coffin, while hearing Kindle's and iPad’s heavy footsteps behind me.

And younger people don't make phone calls anymore . Instead, they text, and tweet, and like. And, through it all, punctuation is going the way of the leisure suit. So is waiting – in this age of 24X7 everything.

I know I sound like a curmudgeon. But, today, this curmudgeon begins to fight back.

Today, I'm going to grab my newspaper, books, cassettes, VHS tapes, and classic black and white movies. And I’m going to hold them up high.

So that, what once was old, will become new again.

I will influence instead of being influenced.

For I have fallen.

But I can get up.