Fewer things are more fun to sell than hot commodities. Far harder to move are dying ones. Thanks to Betsy Towner, here is a list of old friends we won’t be seeing much longer:
Business cards. Throughout my career, every time I get a new business card I set one aside to join all the others that escort me down nostalgia lane. I had coffee with a potential new client this morning and ended our meeting by politely handing over two of mine.
He thanked me and said, “I don’t use them any more. You have my email and cell phone, right? You know how to get hold of me.”
A lot of my connections send me virtual cards now. More variations are coming. Phone to phone cards are next.
Physical media. Things that seemed so new — like CDs, DVDs, BlueRays, thumb drives, and video game discs — are going bye-bye faster than turkey legs at Thanksgiving. Pretty soon everything dealing with entertainment and shared files will come via the internet.
Home telephones. I’m old school — I still have my landline — but I think I keep it more out of habit than practicality. This has seemed especially true recently. With caller ID identifying who’s calling, if it’s not a number I recognize I do not pick up the phone until after screening the message.
One of my friends just pulled the plug on his. Thirty-four years he had the same number. Tomorrow it disappears. He has his cell phone, his wife has hers and they both figure that pretty much covers the need.
Answering machines, the stepbrother to the home phone, are on death row too. So is their neighbor, the Rolodex.
Snail mail. Call me a romantic but I still believe nothing beats a real card or letter in the mailbox. Electronic is convenient but it certainly isn’t lasting. Although rain nor snow nor darkness of night can keep the mailman from his appointed rounds, a whopping deficit certainly can. Look for a major restructuring in the U. S. Postal Service, with trucks silenced, carriers eliminated, and services scaled back beyond anything we’ve seen in the past hundred years. I will rue these changes. I still believe a first class stamp is the best bargain in America.
Telephone books. What will Randy Jackson refer to on American Idol when he says a singer is so good he or she can sing one? No longer will these be waiting on the doorstep. After their demise, what’s next? Will Halloween pumpkins become passe?
Penmanship, especially cursive and calligraphy. Many states are preparing to join Ohio, Illinois, Indiana, and Hawaii as states that have dropped handwriting as an educational requirement. While this may seem convenient, it will create a new educational program: teaching future scholars how to read historical documents in their original drafts.
Analog clocks and wristwatches. Cellphones and digital timekeepers spring forward and fall back without prompting. No longer will be need to remember to set all the clocks in the house, car, and jewelry drawer forward and back as seasons change.
Passwords. In the future, our devices will rely on biometrics to identify us. When they do, they will know our codes and unlock our devices. This I applaud. I am so sick of erratic mandates of alphanumeric combinations I cannot begin to say. This one cannot come quick enough for me.
Say cheese! Film is about kaput, too. Technology has dinosaured the rolls, the various speeds, the dark room, and all that went with it. In other words, it has commoditized an art form.
Subway tokens. Part of being a traveler was pocketing one from wherever you went. If you can find one, pocket it and put it in a safe and special place. Some day soon you can show it to an awed grandchild, bringing stories and magic to a cold or rainy afternoon.
Event tickets. Few things were as exciting as clutching a custom ticket to a big concert or sporting event. Now I print things out at home, at my expense, on a sheet of white paper. Whoop……….ee. How blah is that? Progress, shmogress. Not all change is for the better, especially when it’s born of convenience for the seller.
Bank deposit slips. And with them, bank tellers. I dated bank tellers after college. I didn’t go to bars to meet girls, I went to banks. Deposit slips were handy for notes and numbers. Drive-up ATMs slightly less romantic.
And last, but certainly not least, the heaviest loss of all: printed encyclopedias. In the old days they were reference books that contained timeless wisdom. Now they are pointless, obsolete each sundown. This is a loss because encyclopedias were considered “the truth.” Now we have the Internet, which masquerades nonsense as a suitable, factual substitute.
Add it all up and singer/songwriter Carly Simon was right way back in 1972 at the ripe old age of 27 when her song, Anticipation, shared the testament of truth that remains unchallenged: “These are the good old days.”
I’ll miss you, my friends — but all things must pass. Nothing seems safe from obsolescence, not even driving a car. Google is noodling around with robotic cars, which drive more safely than people do. Nevada is prepping to be the first state to issue permits for people town them.
I can’t stop progress — none of us can — but the auto industry needs to promise me one favor: Protect me from evolution. Carmakers are not allowed, under any circumstance, to do away with the manual, stick-shift transmission.
Bank tellers really liked those.