I listened to a comedian talk about aging. It’s ridiculous—he is in his 30s, for Pete’s sake! What does he know about “older.” However, his spiel made it very clear.

“I was alive before Google,” he explains to young coworkers, who gasp in shock. “How did you figure things out?” they asked.

“Well, we had the internet, but it was rather slow and screechy. We would ask our questions to Jeeves. Sometimes he knew the answers.”

“What if he didn’t, you ask? We had to go to the library—it’s a big building full of books, Books are like your tablets, and you can read stuff in them. No, you don’t scroll. You go to the next page, but you have to manually select it and move it from side to side. I know, lots of work.”

“Here’s how it works, you go to this house full of books and ask your question to a librarian. She gives you a slip of paper with numbers and dots on it, and it give you clues, like on a treasure hunt, where to find the book. Once you find it, you have to read the whole thing.”

“To answer your question, yes, sometimes the answer wasn’t in the book. I know—it’s a long process. You don’t know the answer yet, but you know a lot of other stuff.”

“You can try more books or you can call somebody’s old grandpa who knows stuff. But, you have to go home to use a phone because there were no cell phones. The phones were attached to the wall by a cord…”

Okay, he probably did feel old. But it got me started thinking how long my comedic spiel would be if I tried to explain all the “new” things I’ve experienced in my life time. I am not in my 30s.

When will the time come when I just say, “Enough!?” I’ll stick with rabbit ears, getting up to change the television dial, and dialing a rotary phone.

Isn’t that why we have grandchildren—to help us with all the new technology?