I wouldn’t describe myself as an early adopter of new technologies. I didn’t opt to receive my paycheck via direct deposit until an employer made it seem like I had no choice (is that legal, by the way?). I resisted the streaming of movies until my DVD player broke. I still have CDs. Mere mention of TikTok makes me tired.
I don’t necessarily oppose technological change, but I am highly susceptible to the power of inertia. Once I become accustomed to a certain way of doing things, I tend to keep on doing them that way until some external force makes me change.
A rare exception to my record of being a tardy adopter was my willingness in my early twenties to try online dating when it was in its infancy. But in that case I was driven by an internal force (horniness).
At sites like Gay.com—a kind of proto-Grindr—if you wanted to share a photo of yourself, you had to go to Kinko’s, use a photo scanner to upload some halfway flattering snapshot (no doubt captured with a Kodak FunSaver), then save the image on a 3.5-inch floppy diskette to take back to your Gateway 2000 desktop computer for virtual distribution to other desperate gays in your area.
This was your one and only online photo, by the way.
I apologize to any Gen Z readers out there who are unfamiliar with the terms and concepts in the preceding tale. Drop me a line and I’d be happy to explain what Kinko’s, floppy disks, Gateway computers, non-digital cameras, and horniness were.
Another sign of my senescence: The current price of a single U.S. postage stamp flabbergasts me. It’s 66¢ if you can believe it. And just last month the Postal Service announced its intention to raise the price to 68¢ on January 21, 2024. Sixty-eight cents!
In the year I was born, stamps cost a mere 15¢ apiece, and I clearly remember when the price was more or less a quarter. (Gen Z readers, drop me a line if you need me to explain what a postage stamp is.)
Course, I don’t have much use for stamps these days. Just like everyone else, I rely on texting and email rather than notes and letters when it comes to written communication. And a couple years ago, I finally transitioned to paying my various bills electronically, leaving stamps, checkbooks, and envelopes to gather dust in my desktop organizer.
I suppose I could use up my stamps by getting myself some stationery and sending out handwritten letters. But we both know I’ll never do that.
As a matter of fact, I can’t even recall the last time I mailed off an honest-to-goodness analog letter. It was probably back when my teenage niece and nephew were still little and I thought it would be cute if I sent them a monthly missive that I’d write from the perspective of my dog, Lucy.
The trouble, though, was that Lucy’s interests were basically limited to snacks, naps, me, squeaky toys, my spouse, and the garbage can in the bathroom. So I ran out of material pretty fast and had to discontinue the letters-from-Lucy series after only a couple installments.
I’d say the principal success of the project was the sign-off I came up with to use right above the signature. I planned to end each epistle thus:
Bacon and belly rubs, Lucy
I figured that would be her version of “Best wishes.”
What a pity that I never got around to devising the perfect sign-off for myself. It could really come in handy right about now.
Indirect Objects 