“Angry Birds. It’s a game.”
“Well I like games. That sounds interesting.”
“It costs 99 cents and has these adorable pigs.”
I’m sitting next to a group of seniors at Caribou on the northshore. I just dropped Micah off at his basketball camp, where about 20 squirrely 6-8 year olds infiltrated a community center gym, each dreaming about the NBA in his future. Now I’m sitting next to a group of four silver-haired retirees, reminiscing about their pasts. (And keeping each other abreast of what’s hip.)
Funny how I’m surrounded by youth and age all the time and spend most of my waking hours forgetting about one and in denial about the other.
“It’s true. Mr. Rogers was an ex-Navy Seal. A natural killer.”