Matthew Burnette, Staff Writer

I had a conversation with my older brother recently about time travel.

I explained to him that if they were ever able to perfect it, my only desire in using the technology would be to go back and just be a fly on the wall, of sorts, in the past.

I would go back and put myself in situations where I could hear the voices of relatives who passed on before I was born and experience their personalities in real time instead of just in the stories I’ve heard about them.

I’d pinpoint the exact unfolding of various family tall tales and see how they really played out.

I would inconspicuously immerse myself in the way of life old just to see what it looked like in color.

Unfortunately, though, regardless of all the advances they seem to be making in this world, it doesn’t seem like time travel is anywhere close to being readily available.

That’s why I think I’ve always had an affinity for antique stores.

They’re the closest thing that we have to a time machine. You can fully surround yourself with the items of the past and get a glimpse of a bygone world.

Pop culture and Americana have always been particular favorites of mine. It’s neat to see old toys, movie posters, advertisements, household items, and other odds and ends that they “don’t make like they used to.”

There’s been several experiences in the last couple of years, though, that I didn’t care much for, and they all went pretty much the same way.

As I make my way around the store (we have an incredible wealth of antique stores in Middle Tennessee so picture your favorite), I express my interest in the various items with an assortment of phrases like “Oh, cool” or “Oh, that’s interesting” or “ I wonder what it would have been like to use one of those?”

Then, in what has become an inevitability, before I can realize, I hear myself saying “Hey, I can remember when this came out!”

It’s usually triggered by an old Happy Meal toy that they have on a shelf or an old VHS tape that I watched as a kid.

As quickly as that wave of nostalgia hits me, it’s replaced by a sudden chill on the back of my neck and the realization “Am I an antique?”

I can suddenly feel my back hunch slightly, my eyesight gets a little worse, and my joints get a little sore.

 At the ripe old age of 31, I’m officially older than items in an antique store.

I think deep down in my heart I know that I’m old now.

Walking around town the other day I came across a group of teenagers walking towards me, and the first thought that entered my mind was “Shouldn’t those kids be in school?”

Often, I have to either Google or ask a much younger colleague or acquaintance what a new slang word means because it’s just incomprehensible to me.

My right ankle gets sore any time it’s going to rain. I also received a flyer from the AARP in the mail which I can only hope was a clerical error.

I guess those realizations about getting older are jarring for just about anyone, even though we all know it’s going to happen.

It’s one of the pleasures of life. You get to see the world change. You get to hit all the milestones that life has to offer. You get to live.

I guess when it comes down to it, I take comfort in getting to experience the passage of time, and more than that, I take comfort in knowing that no matter how old I get, my brother will always be older.