Jane, you ig......... eh, yes, aware. I used 'IT' because I truly am a Simpleton in, on, computer, communication stuff. For 20 or so years, I lived in cubicle land, made over 143 calls to our IT Department in frustration, despair, only/always to be met with the dreaded "Have you tried restarting your computer?"
When our IT Department would roll out a new program, assuredly making a not-to-user-friendly program friendly....... my buddy (Big'N) and I would gripe, moan, bitch, because oft times we'd find - where before, something took you two clicks, it now took seven.. or... some things would be hidden, wiped out, gone completely. Gripe. Moan. Bitch.
Big'N's gf, a retired former IT Supervisor for a hella big Computer company, related "You two are exactly the type we would give a rollout to in advance of giving it to everyone else, because, aware, of how hard you are to please (which, is kindly apologetic to us as really, we'd gripe, moan, bitch.)
I will now spend three years of your life informing you exactly how communication has changed in our lifetime. Of course, jk.
If you're roughly the same decade, era - we had black and white TV's, landlines (our house had two, one upstairs, one down), and, radios. We thought that was tall cotton as we didn't even have AC yet (and not sure anyone did), so, what was there to complain about?
I remember, my mother and father, 'children of the Depression Era" telling us (of them) we were po' and didn't know it." Right in line with that, some'a the fancier homes in our fine community dabbled, purchased the brand new, first available Color TV's. Not us, but, not to be outdone by the Jones's, dad, bless his heart, came home with a plastic thingy you put over the face of our TV, giving it the kinda-sorta-pretend-to-be color TV. Eventually, we splurged at Woody's Appliance and joined the in color world.
It was a day and time when many different forms of communication happened. The ice cream man (RUN, don't walk, "Mom, can I have a quarter?").. The streetlights, when they came on, time to get our booties home. As we aged a tad, we played later - and, the flashing on/off of our porchlight was the indicator 'time to come home.'
Along about that era, and actually, even into today, our folks used ALL THREE names, full volume, of course, when we were in trouble. Honest, I rarely heard VICTOR KENDAL SCHULTZE! because I pretty much behaved. It wasn't until I reached the driving age or so that I noticed my father balding a bit, and mom, smoking more - which, assuredly correlated to my moments of wildness.
Two phones. When I was young, behaved, 'dibs' on the phone wasn't a priority for me. As I reached the age where my pops lost his hair, mom smoked more, it was "DADGUMMIT, Vanda (my sister) has been on the phone for OVER AN HOUR" happened.
Back in that 'I behaved' period, we, the Flanigans (9 nextdoor neighbor kids) and I, dabbled with empty juice cans, a long, long string, we emulated Alexander Graham. Fun, barely legible, well done. At school, we communicated by passing notes. Well, those who'd already started causing their parents to lose their hair, smoke more, did
There was damn near a pay phone on every other corner. Came in handy for "I'm about out of gas, can you bring me a few bucks... or... everyone is going to Weags house for the night, you care if I go, spend the night too?" Of course I was still a model child then, but I remember my buddies taking the butt end of the pay phone phone, dropping a nickel in, and, simultaneously hitting the coin return button, and, about 5 outta 10 tries, the nickel would go thru to the coin return thingy, AND, a dial tone would be produced. At least, that's what they told me, I was still in the angel era.
As I aged, started to cause pa' to lose hair, mom to smoke more, we used coins in a different way to communicate. The Paseo Bridge (now, The Bond Bridge) helped us get over the Missouri River from the Northland into downtown KC, and, there was a dime toll due to do so. There were manned toll boths, and automated thingys where you could simply drop a dime to cross. I'd pull up to the manned booth, hand the guy a dime, and then a second dime, and I'd announce, "And this is for my buddy" who would time it, as he sped at 63 mph thru the automated thingy. We thought 'fun', toll collector not-so-much, "smartass kids"....
While I was assuredly a redheaded smartass kid, my buddies had long been into causing their folks to lose their hair, smoke more, they'd do cruddy stuff like heat up a dime (or spit on one) then, hand it to the poor toll guy or gal. Kids nowadays have no idea the fun we had, I guess.
Scroll forward thru one marriage, then a second, then, a child, quite a few jobs, and then, proud owner of a mom and pop delivery business - my new form of communication was a beeper. YIPEE! Momma worked from home, one eye on the kid, the other on the business, and she'd beep me with a new pickup, or, any other concern.
By this time, yeah, I was corrupt, but, still carried a pocketfulla dimes just in case I couldn't get the 'tap the butt of the phone on the coin return as you drop a nickel and hope for your nickel back, along with, a dial tone. Most times yeah, sometimes not, then, used a dime.
THEN, the bag phone. I got one. I was 'color TV cool', "Thornwall 7 cool", finally, when others weren't. Momma would page me to call, I would... I'd worry about every second of time used (EXPENSIVE) on the bag phone, would try to hurry her thru the conversation, thus, in turn causing her to smoke more cigs. Long run, tough to compare the economics there.
This brings us to today, where, in one fell smartphone swoop, one can find out who the Chief's all time leading rusher is, check your blood pressure, remotely turn down the temp on your electric smoker at home, scan a document, use the language translator to be sure (or not) if those ladies at the pedicure joint are laughing at you, play Farmville (or Sudoku), swipe and pay at QT for a packa cigs, Facetime the oldest granddaughter in Topeka, and, listen to "Chicken train runnin all day, chicken train, running all day, chicken train, running all day, can't get on, can't get off, chicken train take the chickens away."
I would be remiss if I didn't mention one of the most beautiful forms of communication I've ever witnessed. My cousin was the basketball coach at the Missouri School for the Deaf. Annually, they'd venture to KC to play in Olathe, KS against the Kansas School for the Deaf. Wonderful, normal kids, with of course just one small difference. To watch the sign language was a thing of beauty. It encompassed explaining, encouraging, exclamation, laughter, and, simply being a kid. Oh, and upon occasion, my cousin would call a time out, draw the kids into a huddle, be fairly upset with them and their play, and his hands accentuated same... to which, the kids (and I love this) would turn their heads so they couldn't see him 'yelling' at them.
Kinda like hitting 'end call' before ever picking up when you see a strange area code or Spam Risk warning.... or, caller ID when your brain tells you, "Nope, not right now anyways."
IT is the best of times, IT is the worst of time.
Forward by Alexander Graham Bell, famous bald people and toll collectors everywhere,
Love, Victurd
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