Recently viewed the film CALIFORNIA TYPEWRITER. Got me thinking about the various types of collectors out there, and what motivates individuals.
typecast on my 1979 Olympia SG3 – pdf file at bottom of post
AR – 1ip 5ervice
my father called his wallet a billfold
simply put a portable engagement
for goods and services
our n.r.a. has a billfold too
simply put a stable lobby
for goods and services
guised as rights (by god no less)
you are folded under leather
with no haggling in the street
with no argument for debate
you are wrong
they are right
— i never feared the paper tiger
— until now
Well, if ever I wanted to open a full can of wrigglin’ worms, the history of the U.S. Census would rate high. I have been delving back into my own family history lately, and any researcher of that ilk will tell you that the life blood of many a new branch on the family tree begins with the census.
I will not attempt to scrawl an in depth history of the census. You can do that yourself. However, here are some fun links I recently found about what it’s like to be a census taker. You know, way back before computers, and beyond.
What Did A ’40s Census-Taker Look Like? — Here you have a brief article from LIFE magazine. The photos are posed, but they convey a great deal about what life was like in middle America coming out of the 30’s.
Here we have an article from AOL – yes! AOL! From 2010, this article will give you some indication of how antiquated the fact gathering system was, even in 2010. DISCLAIMER: If this link is broken when you click it, don’t come cryin’ to me…
Here I leave you with a swell link to the actual Census Bureau website. Fascinating stuff! On the left margin are links to facts about the progression of how the census changed over time. As you might imagine, many folks have looked upon census takers as intruders, bent on collecting information for nefarious purposes. In actuality, the census was conceived and perpetuated so the people of the United States can be fairly represented. If you disagree with that perspective well, that’s your right. I highly suggest however, that if the census man comes to your door, ask questions first. Better yet; answer the questions. ~TH~
I was thinking this morning of the stopgap technology known as the answering machine and it’s first cousin, the pager. For readers not aware, the pager was a clip-on gizmo that alerted you when someone wanted you to call them. It displayed the phone number you were supposed to call. I never had one, I wan’t prone to appreciate being interrupted so that I could do your bidding.
The answering machines of old used cassette tapes then later, mini-cassette tapes. When you got home or back to your office (because remember, that’s where your telephone was; a slave shackled to a wall), you could check to see who called. And thus began the psychology of excuses for purposely dodging calls.
I yearn for the days of yore, when, if you were not home well, you would miss the call. You would have no idea if anyone called, or perhaps twenty people called. It was not even on your radar. No one ever came home, put the groceries down and began calling all their friends to find out of they had called. The assumption was that if someone needed to speak to you, they’d call again. If you knew someone might call but you did not want to be disturbed, you could simply take the receiver off the hook. A busy signal would sound to the caller. Doesn’t that sound great? This made it appear to the caller that your line was busy. Yes, this confirmed that you were busy as well, talking to someone else. The caller would undoubtedly feel snubbed; “Who could Tom possibly be talking to who’s more important than moi?”
Then came pagers and answering machines, and with them a torrent of little white lies and miniscule bits of psychological damage, piling up in our heads. “Huh- I didn’t get that message.” “Huh, my machine must be broken.” “Damn! The machine ate the tape!”
These dodges have carried into our 21st century life. I’ll wager you have a few go-to fibs for why you never call me back. That’s ok. I’ll just mentally stick my tongue out at you like we’re back in grade school, “Meh! I didn’t really want to talk to you anyway.”
When I’m out & about, I often say something lightly that elicits gazes of perplexion upon the hearers complexion. Hence- UNDER MY OWN STEAM. Anyone out there familiar with this one? Let me know, thanks.
Received a wonderful gift from a friend, a 1956 OPTIMA Elite 3 typewriter in very good condition. My new companion for the next week or so.