Faster Than a Speeding Flatpick

I play American Appalachian dance music -- on stage, I'd be right at home in the 1700s. Last night, I put a small mpeg of a dance my band played for, onto our band's blog. The mpeg was taken by one of the dancers, with his shirt-pocket, digital camera. After I was done, I sent email to friends, far away, pointing at the post. I did all this from a local coffee shop, from my laptop computer, over a wireless connection.

If you're younger and reading this, you may be saying, "And? What's your point?"

My father told me that when he was a boy, his sister was killed by a horse cart, in New York City, and when he grew up, we sent a man to the moon.

It's how I feel all the time.