Today walking through Harvard Square, I looked at all the young faces. Students, perhaps graduating soon, so full of promise. They looked twelve. I did some math in my head: a graduating senior is most likely twenty one, which means they were born in 1994. 1994. The year Kurt Cobain died. Wow. As I was losing myself in these thoughts, I heard the music from a loud party. Ah yes, the college party on one of the first pleasant afternoons of spring (that it isn't until May 1, well... ). Then the blaring music changed to The Rolling Stones, music that was already older than I was when I was in college. So some things don't change, some things perhaps remain as timeless as Mick Jagger, even if as unlikely that Keith Richards still walks among us. But somehow that made me feel ok.