“It’s called Technology” says my youngest son, Peter, as he walks me through downloading the app for UBER and showing me how it works. We are at some groovy cafe in the Marina District of San Francisco having “detox” salads sans the chicken. “It’s Good Friday” I remark to which my cradle Catholic son snarls “So what?”
I am feeling old.
He thinks I’m out of touch with technology (although I can create a mean excel spreadsheet and share a google doc with the best of them) and my religion is regarded as dated and useless.
As I attempt to keep up with my 6’2″ son forging the steep hill towards his home, Peter gives me last minute instructions on the goldens, Lua and Willow. “Make sure they know who is boss? Don’t let them walk you! Be in charge!” I listen carefully and nod appropriately like a good student.