1972: Hearing my father muttering in irritation, I turn away from watching an episode of Starlost, to observe him using the eraser-end of a pencil to dial a number on the wall phone in our kitchen (rotary model, push-button had only been around for about 3 years); at 59 years old, his fingers had gotten too blunt to fit into the digit-holes on the rotor. Boy, thinks I in my perfect highschool senior wisdom, I'm never gonna be that old!movieman1957 wrote:You will someday. And it won't be pleasant when you catch yourself.charliechaplinfan wrote:
Now I am growing into a curmedgeon. I'm determined not to be the kind of parent who starts sentences with 'You don't know you're born....' or 'We never had this in our day....'
2007: Getting paged by a power co. scheduler, and being equidistant between the nearest payphones, I pull-over and borrow my wife's cell phone to answer the page . . . but my fingers are too big for the keypad, so I grab a pencil off my truck dash to punch-in the number . . . whoahhh!
Time fugue!
It's '72 again, but now I'm standing in the kitchen . . . !