Becoming Antique

In the last year or so, I have come to the irrefutable conclusion that I am becoming an antique.  Like those old boxes of 65-year-old comic books that languish in my closet, I am a relic of an age that is rapidly becoming a distant memory for some and an impossible fiction for most.  And while I am only in my mid-fifties chronologically, culture-wise I am on the leeward side of a great divide in which the aberrant forms and opinions that encompass me are rapidly accelerating past my ability to absorb them.  Thus, I am as some quaint heirloom that has philosophically and volitionally waded out from the river of popular culture, while residing in the  tenuous  and shallow  eddies of the far banks -- self-arresting my progress  and pausing more to gaze behind me  than afore. I do not mean to represent myself as some Luddite antiquarian who prefers living "off the grid" -- eschewing cell phones and the newest technology.  No, it is ideals and...(Read Full Article)

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