I read books. No Kindle for me. I love the feel of holding the thickened cover, registering the different paper thicknesses, savoring the aesthetics of old-world fonts, noting the subtle but real variations of what is the signature whiteness of pages of different publishing houses, and most significantly, the familial dexterity required to turn over the page via the intuitive enmeshment of thumb and forefinger, interspersed with the habitual lick of tongue to assist with the pristine stubbornness of page-turning of a brand new book.  I am not your next candidate for Google books.

But I also live in the new age. I have personally witnessed the transition from ink-well-nib-pen, to biro, through to touch screen and scroll bar.  I remember the black wall phoned finger dial evolving into an elegant white desk-set, then amazingly finding legs and morphing into a large tool-box-sized portable phone, and onto the sleek multi-tasked Apple 9 that I now own. 

I recall learning in school the format and etiquette of letter-writing with date and address on the left and return address on the right, as it evolved through fax, email, scan, and now the abbreviations and acronyms of social-media-interpreted shorthand and variations of ‘emoticons’. AFAIK. Lol! 

I still love putting photos into albums, designing the page, applying the glues, and the capability of having hundreds of photos in one album. But I do see the virtue of being able to call my wife and send her a photo of me at the same time. Yet I get the jitters, the willies, and the heebee-jeebies when all my photos momentarily disappear into some ‘cloud’ (on-line back-up by third party provider – wow, awesome description!) only to be informed that they are safely tucked up in a heavenly bed somewhere ‘up there’, and that I will have to call my grandchildren to help me retrieve them into the ‘here and now’. 

But most of all I recall the pleasure of driving a clutch car where one still felt in control of machine, the immaculate beast being an extension of my heart and soul, longish hair (when I still had some!) flying behind me in my precious convertible MG soft-top roadster – top removed, and even sporting a dipstick to check the oil level manually! These days I will soon be able read my hard-cover books while the iron-horse drives itself, and, most ingeniously, even parks itself. 

Yes I do recall the past with nostalgia.  But I don’t resent the present and have no fear of the future.  Life is an adventure and how you see it is what you get. 

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