Eleventeen

I have two sons. One is sixteen, the other is eleventeen. Pray for me. My sixteen year old is sprouting up into a fine young man with many wild visions not too different from his mom's retired wild visions though he would be hard-pressed to admit to THAT. Isn't that exactly how it is? Everything old is new again. There is nothing new under the sun. (Thanks King Solomon). I am remembering a day or so ago when I went to the post office to pick up Season 4 of "The Office" that had just arrived. The "muzak" that was playing over the din of all of us 40 somethings was Billy Idol's More, More, More. Remember THAT? BI was one of the first concert's I ever attended. (You did not hear that mom). Despite it's apparent sexual overtones and fist pumping imagery, I could not help but wonder what will my sixteen and eleventeen year olds will be listening to in their post offices of the 21st century? Will it be "I kissed a girl". O heavens. Not THAT.