I got the second parking ticket of my entire life last week. The pissy part of it was that I actually had put money in the meter. It ran out. I guess a dime doesn’t get what it used to. We so rarely park anywhere these days where there are actually parking meters. One day the meters will suffer the same fate as telephone booths and full service filling stations. Hee hee. I said filling station. *snickers*
There are so many things from our pasts that have found their way onto the endangered species list, lingered there for awhile and then just bit the dust. Remember rotary dial telephones? Console televisions that you actually had to manually change the channel and adjust the volume? Department stores, even in small towns, that had elevators? Diners? Toasters that lasted as long as a marriage? Oh, well, I guess it’s the same these days… I’m talking about our parents’ and grandparents’ marriages.
Remember mowing the grass with a push mower? That used to mean two wheels, cylindrical blades and a handle. As recently as 10-15 years ago, I bought one. I was determined to cut down on neighborhood noise and conserve gas and cut down on air pollution. Had I kept up with it, I might have some stellar abs, biceps and deltoids to show off. But I was too lazy and it was too hard to push. My bad.
I still would rather wash my car in the driveway with a bucket and a sponge and detergent and a hose than use a carwash. It’s just plain old fun to put on a bathing suit top and cut offs and make the car all shiny and pretty. It’s also plain old hard to find the time usually.
Lots of people these days listen to audio books. I’ve done it, but I still love the feeling of a real, old fashioned book with pages to turn. I love the smell of the paper and the beauty of those words all lined up and spaced so perfectly on the pages. I enjoy the anticipation of turning the pages or flipping back to re-read a memorable passage. And when I finish a particularly good book, I like the feeling of hugging it to my chest to show the book gods my appreciation.
As much as I rely on a keyboard, I still love pencil and paper.
As pleased as I am to get personal email, a hand-written letter in the mailbox is such a joy to receive.
Popping a cd in is fast and easy. But remember what it used to feel like to buy a record album and rush home to tear into it? Once in awhile all the lyrics were printed on the paper jacket inside and that was the ultimate! But the actual action of lifting the dust cover on the turn table, pulling up the arm and sliding it over, placing the record on the turn table and placing the needle in the groove… it was like a ceremony we performed in preparation for the thrill of the music. It was all part of the experience. You adjusted the headphones, sat back and let the music take you away.
Remember winding your watch? And the alarm clock?
When is the last time you wrapped a gift with paper, tape and ribbon? I still do it. I’m stubborn that way. Occasionally I’ll use a gift bag to save time, but I get such simple complete joy out of choosing pretty paper to wrap a gift. I rarely buy ready-made bows. I buy ribbon, the good stuff-cloth, not paper- and love the look on the recipient’s face when they say “Oooh. Look how nice this is wrapped!” One year at Christmas time, my son Michael questioned me; why I spent so much time lining up corners and cutting the paper so straight and painstakingly wrapping each present to my own specifications. I don’t know that he understands even yet, how much I enjoy the simple little act of preserving an old tradition. Like brewing tea in a real teapot or ironing a cotton tablecloth or baking a layer cake. Some things are just better the old way.
Why just the other day I was mending a ripped pair of the son’s boxer shorts. Yeah, they could have landed in the rag bag. But then I would have missed out enjoying the ten minutes that it took me to thread the freakin’ needle. 😉
Do ya think I’m old fashioned?
