My husband has done an oil painting of two baby chicks looking quizzically at an egg, which has a beautiful pink rose growing out of it. The rose is tall and in full bloom and the chicks seem to be asking, "Huh?" Since I get to title his work, I named this one "Assume Nothing."

That's why I should've known better than to have made an assumption. Open wide, Diane. Insert foot.

One of my neighbors, an 80-something guy who is known to drive other people's cars sometimes, parked a very big SUV across the street from my house while he got his mail. I walked over and he told me it was a Cadillac Escalade, showing me its two TV sets. I said, "You have got to be kidding." Then, when I should have zipped it I continued, "How can somebody have two sets in their car? Do you remember back in the day, when people driving just looked at the landscape. Or read? Or sang, 'A hundred bottles of beer on the wall?' I don't understand what happened that we would rather watch TV in a car than talk to each other."

Big oops. That's when the neighbor told me that the Escalade was his and that he's had it for three years.

Apologies in order, since I assumed the car belonged to a young couple with kids, we both laughed, and when I see his GPS system and cell phone, I tell him, "Man, you are seriously hooked up."

Shortly thereafter, I gave an afternoon party for a family member, and one of the 40 guests, who is generations away from the neighbor with the big car, engaged me in quixotic conversation about how lucky I am to be older than he. Not sure this was a compliment, I asked him what on earth he was talking about.

He said, "My generation is wired all the time, so much so that we don't know how to sit and do nothing." Even taking in the forest behind my home, he said he feels like "I should be doing something with my hands. Older people (uh, is he talking about me?) know how to sit and just relax."

I listened to the voice of a 31-year-old man who needed a lot more peace than I could give. He talked about the cell phone that is an extension of his hand. And about the Internet that he carries in his pocket. And about the laptop that accompanies him all over the world, so that no matter where he is he can reach and be reached.

"It's generational," he said. "Your generation isn't hooked up like mine is. To sit at home means I am still hooked up to something, even if it's TV."

To the contrary, I told him, just about everybody I know, regardless of age, and wherever they are in the world, is "hooked up. We are wired, baby, just like you. But sometimes we turn things off. Everyone needs to make choices that work for them regarding how we want to live our lives." I told him that if it's really bothersome to him, it was OK to turn off his cell.

He and I went on a little tour about progress, transformation, ageism and assumptions. We talked about the Brownie camera he remembers his great-aunt having that was digital's precursor. The party line that developed into a rotary, growing into push buttons, evolving into cells and iPhones. Pen and ink that grew into typewriters that transformed into electronics, then computers and now laptops.

Each generation thinks they are the creators of all things in the moment. But progress is a continuum. And how we choose to respond to it is up to each of us.

My 80-something neighbor is keeping up with the times. So is the 30-something man. In their digital lives, the 50 years between them makes as much difference as they choose.

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