I’ve often thought of myself as young-at-heart.
Heck, on a good day, I’d say I was damn-near cool. And yet, recently, I’ve had to confront an uncomfortable truth: I’m old.
Of course, age is relative: to an octogenarian, I’m a spring chicken; to many of my classmates, however, I’m ancient.
I was reminded of this generational divide recently, during a coffee break with some of them.
We were chatting about seminal movies from our youth. Naturally, I listed off some of my favourites: Tron, The Goonies, Flight of the Navigator, Labyrinth, E.T., The Dark Crystal, The Never-Ending Story.
Evidently, a decade might as well be a lifetime; most of my colleagues hadn’t even heard of these movies, let alone seen them.