Time has a way of shifting around the geography. It was just yesterday that I was standing across the chasm, glaring at my father on the other side of the generation gap. And now, today, I'm standing beside him and we're both looking across at dumb kids who need to pull their pants up and turn their baseball caps around.
My oldest kid is only eight, so I shudder to think what I will be like when she becomes a teenager, a surly rebel, flipping pages back and forth, flapping her hands, and calling her old man a square. The very fact that I use the word square causes me anxiety because I'm already regressing to being a middle aged baby boomer. How did this shift happen? I guess it's the miracle of plate tectonics ...
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