Count me among those who, in my youth, shuddered and looked for escape every time some warbling gray-hair would start a verbal stroll down memory lane, trying to drag me along.

As a kid, there often seemed nothing worse than bearing witness to the insufferable games of “remember when” — when you had to have ration tickets for sugar, when chocolate bars were a nickel, when dinosaurs roamed the Earth.

But there was worse. The worst were the long lectures about “kids today” and how America is doomed to repeat its mistakes because the younger generations know nothing.

And here I am, better than six decades into knowing it all, only to cluck my tongue and shake my head like millennia of geezers have before me, perturbed about what kids today don’t know. At my age, kids include anyone and eve

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