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Thursday, September 5, 2013

Maybe Some People Do Not But I Still Do


Maybe Just Maybe




There's an article floating out there in cyberspace listing about 50 things WE do not use anymore.
First of all, I abhor any article, essay or post that starts off with the phrase SOME PEOPLE...uh, unless I am the one doing it.

And I despise SOME PEOPLE who say they are sorry and the next word is BUT...

I really am sorry to have used the term SOME PEOPLE...I really really am, BUT...

I should have quit while I was ahead, BUT I was irritated before I even read the content. Actually, my temper was set on a slow simmering boil. Over the word WE.

Who are YOU? Who is this person I have never met, never seen, that has no name, who gathered a BUNCH of SOME PEOPLE together for a STUDY about what WE all do or don't do? Were YOU invited to participate? Huh? Were you? Your neighbors? Your bus driver? Your cousin? Your mother-in-law? Well, yeah, I know her and she never misses ANYTHING.

So. Ha. Ha. Ha. Here's the point. It's kind of funny. A list of all the uncool, unhip, the passed-the-sell-date, old, no longer any good, useless, done, gone for good stuff WE don't use and the unveiled implication that if YOU still DO use anything on the list, YOU are walking through the world hauling a club behind you, knuckles dragging in the dirt, chewing on raw animal innards, clueless to that group of SOME PEOPLE over there who have discovered FIRE and the MICROWAVE and are computer WISE GUYS wearing their cell phones in their ears or on their WRISTS and have a GPS to find their way home and are laughing at YOU Neanderthals who probably haven't discovered your opposable thumbs, so ha ha ha ha ha, how will YOU ever learn how to TEXT!!!

So, let me grab a rock and draw you a picture on the cave wall. Maybe grab a few berries to make a more colorful story. I'd like to make a primitive Power Point if you will.

WE ain't ME.

True. Haven't used a travel agent in years, but so wish I had as the room with a view turned out to be a view from the year circa 1950. The bugs under the mattress, oh yes, they were au courant.

True. Don't drive around looking for garage sale signs much anymore, but back in the day I scored the entire Ewok Village, a brand new still-in-the-box Millennium Falcon with eight of the best Star Wars figures inside, and even an X-Wing Fighter. NOW there is a show on the Travel Channel called the Toy Hunter, and if he'd just call, I could be his wing man and we could make a fortune.

True. These days, I don't do much hand washing of delicate apparel. My old washing machine had two cycles. Regular and Permanent Press. The old girl lived a respectable 20 years. My new machine has 1,945 different settings, shrinks just about anything it touches, and breaks down if I whisper the word SPIN. Not to mention the repairman no longer makes house calls, and expects to "talk me through it" from somewhere in a foreign land and in a foreign tongue. I hang up after the word phalange. My mother taught me not to talk about such things with strangers.

True. I don't carry change in my pockets for pay phones. I used to do that for pay toilets, too. Maybe if WE still had those, I wouldn't have to use one foot to push open the door on the way out, while grabbing a paper towel with my other hand, then switching feet so I can make the throw to the garbage can without touching the door handle or the faucet on the sink. Oh, and that is only after I embarrass myself by waving my hands under the faucet on all three sinks and there is no water, and then under the paper towel dispenser and there are no towels.

True. I don't use a map while driving, but then the men in my life never stopped to ask for directions BEFORE so why do it NOW? NOW, the men in my life, listen to another woman's silky, throaty, come-hither voice on the GPS, leading them on, and they argue with HER, make the wrong turn 'cause they STILL know better, and get lost anyway.

True. I don't have to remember PHONE NUMBERS anymore, but now I have to recall 2,902 PASSWORDS that at one time were the names of my least favorite relatives, but now I am told they must be STRONG PASSWORDS, so I keep them on a list SOMEWHERE that I could probably remember if I was still using what's left of my memory neurons to store the old phone numbers I used to know by heart.

FALSE. Now to the good part. I still have CD's. Lots and lots and lots and lots of them...and so do SOME very close relatives of mine, many quite a bit younger than I and now THEY are coming home and searching the basement stash for VINYL LP's.  Ha! And if I am the last person on the face of the planet to have a Sony Walkman CD player, I will make a fortune, a fortune I tell you.

FALSE. I still print out pictures. At home and at Walgreen's and I still make photo albums. And one day, SOME PEOPLE will wish they had too. One day SOME LUCKY PEOPLE will get a card from me with a few "snaps" tucked inside and they will put them on the refrigerator door with a magnet and not feel quite so far away from the ones that they love.

FALSE. I still write LETTERS. Real ones. On paper. In ink. With a pen. Sealed in an envelope. With a stamp. And I sign it I LOVE YOU. I send cards. Cards you can keep in a box. Or put on your desk at work. Cards that make you laugh. Cards that say I miss you. Cards and letters that say I care. I will admit, with a heavy sigh, that I don't receive that many anymore. But I still have just enough to remind me that WE just might not mind opening the mailbox and finding YOU there.


WE are not ME. And I am not YOU. BUT I am sorry, so very sorry to inform you, that one day soon, sooner than you can grasp, SOME PEOPLE will write another article, some day in the not so distant future telling YOU how obsolete you have become. How the world has passed you by. How all your widgets and gadgets and apps and acronyms are passe'. How all that stuff in YOUR closet is ancient and terribly amusing. And oh that fateful day, when YOU go online to buy a funny card, and there you stand, in your high school finery, right on the front cover, and there is a kid behind you snorting with laughter and, saying...


Trust me. It will happen. But the secret? Wait. Wait about ten more years and these same smartie pants will be on stage wearing a version of what YOU wore in high school and thinking THEY invented rattails and acid washed jeans.

Don't YOU worry.  

WE will leave a light on in the cave for YOU.

Just follow the sound of muffled giggles in the dark,

and follow the trail of floppy disks

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