We’re Becoming Dinosaurs

I’ve known for a while that Zack and I are becoming dinosaurs. We live in an old house on an old family place, own old things and often (but not exclusively) enjoy old, simple, reliable ways. We seem to know (old) things that no one else knows, remembers, or thinks is important any longer. We understand how to operate things that are outdated and of little value to many in “the modern world.” I’m a stickler for proper grammar when no one else seems to care. Zack likes people to actually have knowledge of a subject they consider themselves expert on when they expound.I’ve known for a while that Zack and I are becoming dinosaurs. We live in an old house on an old family place, own old things and often (but not exclusively) enjoy old, simple, reliable ways. We seem to know (old) things that no one else knows, remembers, or thinks is important any longer. We understand how to operate things that are outdated and of little value to many in “the modern world.” I’m a stickler for proper grammar when no one else seems to care. Zack likes people to actually have knowledge of a subject they consider themselves expert on when they expound.

The other day, we visited a large office supply store chain. Zack needed cartridges for his fountain pen. These are no longer available to fit each and every brand, but come in a few generic varieties. You have to hope there’s one to fit the pen you might own. While there, we asked the young woman behind the service counter if the store sold fountain pens. “Fountain? (pause) Pens? (Pause). I don’t even know what that IS”.  We were taken aback. (It isn’t like we’re closing in on a century of life or anything even close).  It was an office supply store. She called a supervisor. He wasn’t sure. So he guided us to the same pen display we had already perused. Nope. Calligraphy pens were as close as he could come. At least he knew what they were.

Today in our local post office, a neighbor asked the clerk for a fountain pen to complete a label. (To our generation, this is like asking for Kleenex or Clorox instead of a tissue or bleach). I had to laugh. Of course, she was handed a ball point, and I told her my story. She said, “I have a better one than that. I had to upgrade to a new cell phone last week.  My old one was really, REALLY old. The girl who helped me was busy punching all kinds of buttons with her thumbs on the new phone, faster than I could even follow with my eyes. She set the thing up, and presented it to me. I asked if she thought I should send the old one in to the Smithsonian. And she said, ‘What’s the Smithsonian?’ “

I suppose I can understand that a twenty-three year old woman might never have encountered a fountain pen. Penmanship is no longer taught in the public schools around here. Cursive writing isn’t taught either. This is interesting, because at least up until a few years ago, there was a portion on the SAT test that required reading in cursive. Proper grammar is not expected or even graded on the statewide TAKS test. (This makes me crazy). And Zack questioned, don’t kids even read any more? See the occasional old movie? Surely somewhere, a person would encounter the term, “fountain pen.” But perhaps not.

I ran into an acquaintance the other day, a writer. When I asked how the book was coming along, he indicated he had had a couple of good days, had been working away on his Olivetti. It occurred to me that even I think of typewriters as outdated. I own two wonderful old models (Royals, both) and cherish them. But I write on my laptop. Zack is the same. We also shy away from texting and using wireless connections to the Internet on our cell phones. It’s just too expensive, and we don’t need to be connected 24/7 to anything but the kids or Zack’s father — in case of emergency. We have computers for the Internet (which we LOVE. A world of information is at our fingertips).

The old dial phones we own and enjoy as antiques no longer work (completely) with our new phone systems. Young people will soon no longer have any idea what a dial phone is. Many already do not (unless they watch old movies).  I made a partial list of other things that have become extinct are seem to be on their way. See if you can add to it:

Standard shifts in automobiles

Roll up windows in vehicles

Cars without air conditioning

Space heaters

Telephone booths

Telephone operators

Beer can and bottle openers (affectionately known in some circles as “church keys”

Roll up can opener keys (as in sardine can)

Skate keys

Black and white movies

35 mm cameras, film, and movie projectors

Mercury thermometers (that must be shaken down before use)

House calls by doctors

There are many other “dinosaurs.”  A young friend commented that until she read a story on my blog, she had never heard of cloth diapers. I suppose not. There are plenty of kids now who have never learned to tell time using a clock with a face, so dependent are they upon digital readouts. Many don’t know what a clothes lines or a clothes pin is, or washboards or wringers — or so many things that are a part of everyone’s rich family history. Most have never used a sewing machine or repaired anything themselves. (I know plenty of adults like that too).

The other day our ice maker stopped working. Rather than frantically and immediately call the repairman as most of my friends would do, I wiggled my finger around and determined that water wasn’t filling the trays. Further investigation yielded the fact that there was ice stuck in the fill tube. I went for my trusty hair dryer (the one I no longer bother using for my hair) and heated the tube until the chunk of ice melted. Problem solved, expense averted, and no waiting around for a repairman. I understand that being retired (or as retired as one can be working on a ranch full time); I have time to bother with things that others must rely on professionals for. Or at least my time is more flexible. As little of it as I can spare, I still have more time than money.

The world is truly changing, just as it always has and as it always will. Perhaps these days, it’s changing a little faster than ever before.

Gene Ellis, Ed.D is a Bosque County resident who returned to the family farm after years of living in New Orleans, New York, and Florida. She’s an artist who holds a doctoral degree from New York University and is writing a book about the minor catastrophes of life. Check out Genie’s blog at  http://rusticramblings.wordpress.com/