Are we the last?

Will my generation be the last to count among themselves at least a few whose ideal weekend afternoon includes sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of warmed up coffee, reading the paper and listening to the game on AM radio? Will the kids who will control the media when we’re old save the execution of AM until the last of my generation is dead, if only out of respect for tradition? As the sun from the kitchen window warms my arm and the smells of Sunday breakfast linger in the air, I have but one thought.

Kids, you don’t know what you’re missing.