I know you young people feel sorry for older ones like me when you see gray hair (or no hair) and wrinkles sprouting up like Spring wildflowers in the mountains.
Don’t waste your sorrow. We’ve lived through a lot of things you’ll never experience. Some really cheesy television, for example.
When I was seven or eight years old, I used to love the adventures of Superman on tv. Sometimes I’ll flash back to the past on You Tube and watch part of an episode.
These days those, I kind of cringe and laugh. You’d have to be eight-years old to take any of that seriously.
The thing I couldn’t understand about Superman, though, was why he didn’t let people know who he was. Louis Lane would have been impressed if she had known that the milk-toast colleague that she ran around with, reporter Clark Kent, was the mighty Superman.
As a matter of fact, old Lois must have been a bit slow between the ears because even the eight-year old version of me saw that Clark Kent looked a lot like Superman.
A lot like Superman.
