Diary: Sweet agony of fuddy-duddy, but our spaceship was wonderful

Diana often reminds me that my cultural references tend toward the time of World War II, as opposed to Trump’s debacle with Iran. Once in Vermont during our ten-day New England excursion (not a weekend, exactly), I found my consciousness altered by strange chewy candies, parked in front of a television, watching Cheers and Beavis and Butt-Head. It occurred to me that since Pints&disunion, my contact with younger people has plummeted to near zero. Concurrently, I’ve aged even beyond my existing chronology; as noted here previously, thanks to my father, the atmosphere around the house growing up was so rooted in the 30s and 40s that it sometimes seems to me that I personally witnessed the Big Band Era and Ted Williams’ prime. But the worst of it was our rental car. The vehicle itself was fine, some sort of mid-sized SUV (gasp) with more than a few bells and whistles. Between the base price and gasoline, the expense would have been enough for each of us to purchase a week-long rail pass in Germany or Italy, and not have to drive at all. Contemplating this very nearly drove me in ......Read more