Twenty-five years ago today we were sitting in a student lounge in Columbia, Mo., watching the future. Back then we couldn't imagine being a quarter-century older; those who had reached that milestone were impossibly old and hopelessly out of touch. Now that we are the decrepit, we have not changed our minds. Damn the black night with its foul temptations and the memories that will not fade.
Do you remember the JAMC?
And reading aloud from magazines?
I don't know about you,
But I'd swear on my name,
They could smell it on me.