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When some schools started to discourage Valentine’s Day card exchanges, boomer parents scoffed. “Nonsense! When I was a kid, we were forced by social convention to send mass-made expressions of vague romantic sentiments to everyone in our class, and we turned out OK.”
. . .
“Podner” was, of course, a colloquial corruption of “partner,” so I could sink all my hopes in that. Or I could stand up and say, “That’s just mean! And you know what? Forty-nine years from now I won’t be plump and will tell everyone in the newspaper about you. And I will say to my little glass machine, ‘Siri, play me the Cowsills,’ and she will say, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t find the Cowsills in your iTunes library.’ And then I’ll say, ‘OK Alexa, you play me the Cowsills,” and she will because I have Amazon Prime, and you’ll be sorry.”
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