I miss hearing the clacking of a typewriter. I miss seeing someone stacking a bunch of papers. I miss Bible Sword Drills. I miss discussing Dylan lyrics. I miss fried chicken on Sunday dinner at 12. I miss short, pithy sermons, 20 minutes max. I miss the future that doesn't exist anymore. I miss a cat curled up beside me or on my lap. I even miss eating Vienna sausages out of the can, the poor man's steak, cold pork and beans, and highly glazed honey buns. Oh well, a man can still dream.