Clad in his usual air travel garb—a knit tie and corduroy blazer—my old man sniffed at people in tank tops and flip flops at Midway Airport and muttered nostalgically, "You know, it used to be that not just anybody could fly."
Not cool, Dad.
Yet, I admit that I find myself missing the days when I could ask my barber his opinion on an election without being lectured to about "narratives," "soundbites" and "staying on message."
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