It was a beautiful day in late August.  A hurricane was roaring up the east coast, but in My Mississippi, the weather was just hunky-dory.

I was riding in the back seat with my two (thirty-something) sons up front.

They were carrying on a riveting conversation which sounded like the teacher in Charlie Brown specials. (Whah, Whah Whah.)

They were speaking some kind of twenty-first century foreign language which didn’t translate in my fermenting brain which is stuck in the 1950s. (That’s when I picked up 85 percent of my vocabulary. )

Back then, there was no such animal as a computer, android, hard drive, I-pod or mother board.

I guess you could call me a technosaur – a person who has absolutely no ability to operate any electronic device that was made after 1985. The last electronic device I understood was the 8-track tape and I frequently jammed it in backwards or upside down.

So how did this technosaur breed two technotarians (people who eat, sleep, and breathe technology)?  It’s a cosmic mystery, so I just keep my mouth shut and spare them the pain of knowing I’m about to become extinct.

Even my 87-year old father (pictured with Braddock and William below) communicated with his grandsons more effectively than I.  Probably because he really doesn’t care that he’s an endangered species.