For students entering college this fall, e-mail is too slow, phones have never had cords and the computers they played with as kids are now in museums.
The Class of 2014 thinks of Clint Eastwood more as a sensitive director than as Dirty Harry urging punks to “go ahead, make my day.” Few incoming freshmen know how to write in cursive or have ever worn a wristwatch.
I happened on this bit of fluff this morning. It’s no wonder I sometimes feel ancient compared to my classmates. I’m fully willing to admit how unhip I am. But I mean honestly? It’s not like I’m ninety. Thank heavens in the world of classical music anything less than 200 years old is “modern”.
