Old school.

Lately it seems like so much of old school life is stopping by to visit; I blame the gosh-darn social networks on the inter-thing.

It hit me yesterday that I’m at the stage in life where at any point, I can bump into a kid I was a camp counselor for, 12 years later when they are no longer 4 years old and they are strewn across a Facebook profile littered with txt speak.

Yikes. Old much?

Or I get tagged in photos so old they must have been scanned into the computer because there were no consumer digital cameras in the mid-90s. Standing around with a couple of high school sophomore boy friends on some Brooklyn street.

Then of course, there is getting friend requests from high school classmates I never would have remembered existed if I never went back and skimmed my yearbook (where is that thing, anyway?).

It sure is nice to have it all out there, stopping occasionally for a cyber tap on the shoulder instead of crashing into me at a high school reunion.






Whadya got: