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They’re
known as the D Generation. That’s D as in digital.
Members of the D Generation have grown up entirely with digital
appliances, computers, microwave ovens, DVDs, cell phones, and they
use it all with second-nature assurance.
Actually, I belong to the D Generation, too. That’s D as in dinosaur.
Our crowd tries hard to adjust to the age of technology and some
of us succeed. I have friends my age and older who are computer
whizzes and easily qualify as technocrats.
Me? I have trouble setting a digital clock. With the semi-annual
necessity of resetting clocks for daylight saving time, it’s not
unusual for me to spring backward and fall forward.
Formatting an answering machine isn’t my strong suit either. During
such upheavals, I think back on simpler times of four-party lines
and personal conversations with local telephone operators.
As for the computer, it’s a wonder I can use one at all. I swear
I’m not making this up. When I first went on line and looked at
web sites for logging in, I wondered who Login was.
For an ol’ reporter who hammered away on a manual typewriter for
years, the electric typewriter still represents a great advancement
in technology.
Other remembrances of Dinosaur Days past:
Before credit and debit cards were invented, we had personal charge
accounts at local stores. Nowadays – unless the proprietor happens
to be our best friend and double-first cousin – we can’t just say,
“Charge it.”
Nearly all stores used to be locally owned. When shopping for clothes,
we sought our favorite sales clerks who knew what we liked, what
looked best and what we could afford. Customer service, it is called.
Everybody knew everybody. We even knew the names of postal carriers
delivering mail to our doorstep and the carhops taking our orders
at the drive-ins.
We remember when milk was delivered to our homes on a regular basis,
and the bottles of milk had cream at the top.
When no cook used a mix because everything was made from scratch.
When pharmacies
served full meals at lunch counters and provided magazine racks
brimming with comic books, movie magazines and sheet music of Hit
Parade songs.
We remember singing along -- and when no one was looking, dancing
along -- to the Hit Parade on the radio.
Before there were ballpoint pens, we struggled with pen staffs and
ink bottles.
Before there were photo-copiers, the operative word was mimeograph.
We could go to the picture show with only three nickels in hand.
Those under 12 got in for 9 cents. That left a nickel for popcorn
and – do the math -- a penny saved to take home.
We remember a little about the Depression and a lot about World
War II. A junior high school teacher once described our class
as “Depression babies and World
War II brats.”
Dinosaurs may not be able to maneuver around much in the world of
technology, but we do know our way around a forgotten world. The
past, after all, can be an interesting place to log in.
© Wanda Orton
Baytown Sun Columnist, November 14, 2014 column
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