Lost in translation

This is so depressing.
(If you're not a reader, it won't be depressing.)
Stats from the story say 40 percent of people in the U.S. read a book--or less than one book--last year.
I recommend my husband remove all the sharp objects in our house immediately.
FORTY PERCENT. ONE BOOK.
On our nightly walk just now, Michael and I saw one car pull of out of a driveway. Both the driver and the passenger were on cellphones. "They're probably talking to each other," he said. Around the corner, a woman was walking with her toddler son, pushing a baby in the stroller while her shoulder cradled her cell phone.
Then today I interviewed a minister to college students who reminded me that e-mail is out; texting is in.
I know each generation has its own splits in which the older one laments the way it used to be and the younger rolls its eyes. In my teen years, Walkmans were all the rage. We could tune out people (read: parents) like many do on ipods today.
But I digress. Reading an actual book is a labor of love. And then, really, not laborious at all.
I feel so old.