Last night, I took five teenage boys to the Franklin Graham Festival at the Tacoma Dome. They appeared to have a great time. When the band, “Starfield” invited the young and young at heart to come down and stand on the floor in front of the stage, three of the five boys hurried down.
I watched from my plastic seat, ever so grateful for the lyrics that appeared on three screens above the stage.
That is how I knew that I am old. I did not jump. I did not dance. Instead, I was just thrilled that I could understand the words, thanks to the visual cues.
Afterwards, I allowed three teenage boys to spend the night at my house.
That is why I deserve a tiara and a sash. And, perhaps, a new Volkswagen Beetle.