On my trip to Phoenix last week to visit my 94-year-old mom, I had dinner one night with her and a couple of her friends, one of them a 93-year-old former schoolteacher.
“I love my new iPod,” the ex-teacher told me.
“Oh,” I said, thinking what a hip lady I’m dining with, “what kind of music do you like?”
Blank stare in return.
“On your iPod,” I offered.
“I don’t listen to music on it.” She gave me a glare like I was about to be demoted from the 4th to the 3rd grade.
“Really. That’s all my grandson does with his. He’s always got his headset on.”
“I read books.”
“On your iPod!?”
“Of course. Newspapers, too. You know, it’s about this size.” She showed me with her hands something with the dimensions of a hardcover book.
“Oh, you mean iPad.”
“There’s a difference?” she said.
“Maybe not,” I answered. Then mumbled almost inaudibly, “But you probably won’t be able to read EYEWALL on your iPod.”
Under the table, Mom kicked me.
I deserved it, of course. Mom’s super-elderly friend may not have known the name of the device she was using, but she was, indeed, using it. 21st century technology. Luddite that I am, I don’t even own one–iPad or iPod.
Kick me again, Mom.