Oh my God, I'm old

As I write this, I'm sitting in a booth at California Pizza Kitchen. I'm working. I'm on my computer doing computer works, which is a complicated formula of web-browsing and Excel spreadsheet-creating. Very complicated stuff, if I explained it to you you'd go blind.

I am also eating (if devouring can be considered eating, and I think it can) their Original Chopped Salad with avocado, not garbanzo beans. Which should be called chick peas because it's a cuter name.

But I digress. The stereo was just playing a song. In the booth in front of me are two girls and their grandma. They are probably nine and eleven? They were singing along earnestly to the song.

I had a sudden flashback. I was sitting on the gymnasium floor at Banner Elementary. Sitting next to my BFF Gretchen and singing my heart out to a new song by a new sensation who was so stinking cool we couldn't stand it.

Her name was Madonna.

The song CPK was just playing was "Material Girl." The little girls in the booth in front of me were me twenty-five years ago.

I wonder when they sing along to that song, is it like me singing along to a Motown song? Do they think it sounds old-fashioned, like the Beatles sounded to me when I was that age? I remember listening to "Hey, Jude" on the record-player, over and over and thinking it was so cool that I was into retro music.

Good Lord. I'm old.

Which means Madonna is like seventy-three years old, right?