Looking through some pictures I took earlier this month, I came across a photograph of a typewriter. I was at SpikeCon, a literary convention and one of the vendors had a two typewriters.
They were beautiful.
I struck up a conversation with the owner of the wonderful relics. I told him I had an Underwood in fair to poor condition. I also told him that when I first attended college at the University of Utah in the fall of 1987, I took an English writing class. I also told him that for that class, we were required to write at least one paper a week.
I used a typewriter to write each and every assignment.
He could hardly believe it.
But, it was true.
In that moment, I felt old. Because, basically, I am.
Of course, old is relative. I'm old compared to your average car, but not old compared to a redwood tree. In that vendor room, talking to a Millennial, I felt old.
Last night, before our show began, a room of pirates prepared to take on Peter Pan, a tribe of warriors, and a band of Lost Boys, we discussed the cost of higher education in America. The pirates, a majority of them either in college, or recently graduated, talked about how much they were having to pay in pursuit of a degree.
That's when I spoke up.
I told them that for my first year at the U of U, I paid roughly $1500 for the entire year.
Once again, I felt old. Funny, how a memory, an object, or a pain in a part of the body that had not before hurt can make you feel old. I suppose as time goes on, I'll have this feeling more and more.
Then again, I could just hang out with those older than me. Then, perhaps, I'd make them feel old, too.
