Someday, when cleaning my parent's attic, I hope to stumble across an old friend--my Apple computer, complete with a floppy disk drive.

After dusting it off, I'll plug it in and start a game of Oregon Trail.

"Oh my God," my kids will say. "I can't believe you used this thing. The graphics suck. I can't even tell what that blob is."

"That's your ox," I will reply. "Be sure to pay the Indian guide to help you ford the river, or else that blob might drown."

Then they'll mutter "this is stupid," and go send a text message to their friends or log onto Facebook.

"I remember the first time that I logged onto Facebook," I will say, looking at the screen over their shoulders. "Back then, there were no mini feed or applications. You couldn't even upload photos, besides your profile picture!"

"Yeah, yeah," my kids will say, just like I do now, when my parents reminisce about the days of typewriters.

Sometimes, my father reminds me that back when he was in college, not everyone could type or own typewriters and some girls made their pocket change from typing people's papers.

"On the night before a big paper was due," he says, "they would have to pull the fire alarm, just to clear some of the people out of the building."

We bought our first computer years ago, but my parents are still proud to own a typewriter. Whenever anyone mentions them they beam and point out that we have one right up in the attic. "And it works!" my dad adds.

Of course, I can't fully appreciate the meaning of owning a typewriter, but my mother grew up on a farm and my father paid for his degree by working nights at a heat treatment plant.

For them, I'm sure it represents the accomplishment of saving enough money to achieve independence. Of course, there's a hint of nostalgia too, which one day I might feel about the old Apple computer.

Now, as I prepare to graduate, I'm not sure what lies in the future, and that excites me.

After all, my parents used White Out, never imagined they wouldn't need printed dictionaries and never thought of instantly sending messages to relatives across the country.

And if my parents could come this far, then who knows? Perhaps, many great changes are waiting ahead in the future for me.

Elaine Hughes is a senior majoring in journalism and political science and is The Daily Collegian's Thursday columnist. Her email is emh5001@psu.edu.