My family is so conservative (or is that frugal?).

“How conservative are they?”

Well, I still wear the leather breeches my seventh-great-grandfather put on to fight in the American Revolutionary War.

My friend told me he got a slate-gray tablet with attachments called apps.  Well, I still write on the slate tablet my ancestor used when he took notes during Aristotle’s lectures, with an attachment for a new invention called chalk.

But that’s nothing.  We finally wore the artisan’s mark off our Assyrian stoneware set after washing it over and over a few thousand years.

And really, how many more times are the kids going to spray-paint outlines of their hands and practice their drawing skills in the backyard cave?  It might fool the archaeologists but it won’t fool me and our descendants.

“Is that so?”

Yes, as a matter of fact, we play with the dugout canoe that accidentally got one side of the family here tens of thousands of years ago.  The fish are different but the fishing’s still fun and our scaly friends taste just as good after cooking over a gas stove as over an open fire.

“Amazing.”

Not really.  Our amino acids still reminisce about their trip through the solar system and wish to get back out there.

“Is that it?”

I don’t know.  I swear that the hydrogen that makes up most of the water in my body looks forward to the next Big Bang.