I can’t keep up with technology.
Just the other day, my 10-year-old son was talking to a friend on the telephone — only he wasn’t using a telephone. He was using something called an iPod Touch, and his friend’s smiling face was right there on the little display screen.
I’m told this is something called FaceTime, which is a little piece of high-tech magic that somebody forgot to tell me about. When I was a kid, we were still tying bean cans together with kite string.
I’ve been waiting for picture phones to arrive since 1963, when I saw George Jetson getting blessed out on a space phone by his boss at Spacely Space Sprockets.
You’d think I’d have read a headline about this FaceTime thing in The New York Times instead of having to pick up my jaw when my son walked through the living room taking into an iPod 6 inches away from his nose. (He was bumping into furniture as he walked, by the way, which resulted in a major deduction of style points.)