Recently my kids have been asking me to tell them stories of what life was like growing up at the end of the 20th Century, before Google, Facebook, and X formerly Twitter. (- seriously, how long do we need to attach this disclaimer? This was almost 3 years ago! If you don’t know that X was Twitter or the Twitter is now X, you have no business being on the internet. Grab your flip phone, lavender essential oil, sourdough starter, and go back to your homestead, Margaret!)
The kids say it just like that too, “the end of the 20th Century.” When they say it like that it seems to me that in their eyes, Methuselah and I are siblings. If you don’t know who Methuselah is, I’ve included a link and you need to read more. No, Methuselah is not a druggy friend from my high school….Meth Use-Lah
But, as you can imagine, I love to share stories of what life was like as the sun set on the second millennia of modern history…
Back in my day, there were no cell phones. No smart phones. No dumb phones. No flip phones. There were just phones and these phones were tethered to the wall. No one asked, “have you seen my phone?” We knew where the phone was at all times: on a wall in the kitchen, hanging on it’s hook with it’s twisted, plastic-coated wire curled up in embarrassment beneath the base and handset.
All the wealthy families went out and bought longer cables that allowed the user to move up to 18 feet away. This was enough to reach the pantry where you could talk privately. That is, unless your family was filthy rich and had two phones. In that case, someone could slowly, quietly, secretly pick up the other handset and listen to your conversation. This CIA wannabe wiretapper would then go blab everything he heard to mom, dad, and your friends (side note I’m not bitter toward my brother).
A friend of mine, whose dad must have been the owner of a small country, had a 24 foot cable. He could go to the pantry, sit on the sofa, or go pretty much anywhere he liked in the house and still talk on the phone. However, God found a way to humble the rich by making that cord twist up into a Gordian Knot. Maybe that’s how his dad got the country he owned (see above link if this didn’t make sense). If you didn’t wind up with the “knot”, that usually meant you were hopelessly entangled in the cord and would most likely have to finish high school at home in the kitchen or pantry, depending on how much cable was left.
Back then, phone numbers were shorter, only seven digits. Area codes were only for long distance calls and we didn’t know anyone who lived a long distance away. The only people I knew who lived a long distance away rode the bus to school. Anyway, the numbers were shorter but you had to be precise when dialing. There were no push buttons. It was all rotary dialing. This meant you stood by the wall, lifted the receiver/handset, untwisted the cable as best you could, and placed your finger in the little hole of the rotary dial. You would then rotate the dial until it stopped and somehow, maybe by magic, it would rotate back to the original position. You would then do it again for the next number, and the next, and so on. If you messed up, have fun starting over from the beginning. Seven numbers, precisely rotated, while being wrapped in a cable, while being tethered to a wall was the only way to connect you to your friends. It’s no wonder my generation has produced so many surgeons, astronauts, and arthritis.
Today my kids complain when their package from Amazon is delayed by 20 minutes. Back then you tore an order form out of a magazine, filled in your information, got your parents to write a check, placed everything in an envelope, and sealed the envelope by licking it. You also had to lick the stamp for the envelope. We licked a lot of stuff back then. You would then drop the envelope in the mail and hope for the best. Then, you waited. Some people marked a date 2-4 weeks out on their calendar and counted down in anticipation. Others completely forgot about their order and so it was like Christmas when it finally did arrive!
Today, it’s different but also the same. I place an order and it arrives the next day. Sometimes I remember what I ordered. Sometimes it’s a total surprise. Like, I completely forgot I ordered 57 bars of soap less than 24 hours ago. I rush out to the Amazon truck to get my package wondering, “what ever could it be! Is this a gift from someone? Is today close to my birthday or a holiday? Did I win, actually win something from those thousand online forms I completed? Oh, it’s the 57 bars of soap I ordered…yesterday!” Still, I’m completely surprised and excited to get a package.
It’s not like we live out in mountains with no human contact. It’s not like were waiting on the Pony Express to arrive after months with no communication. Amazon, FedEx, or the USPS arrive almost every day. I think our neighbors believe we operate an Amazon Hub from our basement with as many trucks that roll in and out of this place.
Back in my day, I think things were better just because they were slower. You learned patience waiting for your turn with the phone or on packages to arrive. However, I believe that my grandkids too will listen in awe as their parents tell stories of how rough things were for them. They’ll share what life was like before deliveries by drone, dropped 20 minutes after ordering. My kids will share the hardships of driving a car with their own hands, switching on and off their own lights (which they never did and don’t let them tell you different), and commuting to work. The grandkids will listen in amazement, and with some terror, to stories of doing chores around the house before the advent of household robots.
Oh well, time marches on, things change, the world evolves. That’s it for now. I’ve said too much already considering that I’m a wanted man…
James M. Hahn, Author 