We just returned from having dinner with some old friends of Janie’s. We exchanged our very belated Christmas gifts and ate Thai food. As we were leaving we had a brief discussion about how you were definitely a child of the 80’s if you can understand what it was like to get a fresh ditto. Our grade school had this old clunker of a ditto machine that teachers would crank in the hallway to make us the purplish-blue copies that no kid these days will ever have the pleasure of knowing. My children will be deprived of the opportunity to press a fresh ditto to his face and inhale the scent of toxic ink.