by Clint Younts
Today, as I’m writing this here column, is Memorial Day, a day to remember and honor all those military men and women who gave the ultimate price for our freedom. On this particular day, my American flag is flying and I salute all those who died protecting this great nation, allowing me the chance to live 60+ years in freedom. You see, today also just happens to be my birthday. Don’t go asking how old I am, because frankly, I don’t recall. Somewhere between 60 and 65, I reckon. My brain is a bit fuzzy due to six decades of bumping my head against short door frames, low-hanging branches, late night frying pans and saloon floors.
I know what year I was born, and with a calculator, I could do the math. But I need someone younger than these boots I’m wearing to show me again where that app is on my dang smart phone. I think someone over at that Apple company should make a phone that starts out smart but gets dumber and easier to use every year after we turn 60. It’s bad when I have to ask Alexa if she knows how to answer a call on my cellphone.
