BY SAM CAPUANO
sam@theballstonjournal.com
As I was taking advantage of the nice weather last week and going for a run along the streets of Milton, I was almost hit by a slow-moving truck with its flashers on. As I was about to flip off the bad driver, I noticed he was delivering something in a yellow plastic bag at the foot of each driveway. When I got home I had one too, and I was amused to find the bag contained a phone book.
As I opened the bag my nine year-old daughter asked, “What’s that, Daddy?” When I answered her, she asked, “What do use those for? Don’t you just look up phone numbers on the internet, or on your cell phone?” Umm, yes. I then tried to explain the concept of the phone book to her, but stopped when I realized I might as well tell her about the party line we used to have when I was little.
Because it dawned on me, both her and 13-year-old brother had literally never used a phone book. Ever. And probably never will. Come to think of it, I hadn’t for quite a while either.
Two days later, I even got a robo-call from the phone book people, to ensure I received the book in good working order. “Hello, we dropped a new phone book off to you recently. Press ’1′ if you received the book in good condition, press ’2′ if you did not, or the book was damaged, and, umm, press ’3′ if when you picked up the book, it was the first time you have held such a guide since you threw away last year’s edition immediately after receiving it.”
A week later, as I drove around Milton, I saw several dozen plastic yellow bags, still stuffed with phone books, at the foot of driveways, where they will likely spend the winter. My guess is these people too have no use for them, and are secretly hoping the plows will take care of them.
As for me, I made note of my spiffy new phone book as a status update on Facebook, stating I would put it right next to other formerly indispensable items such as the 8-track player, VCR and Atari system.
My clever friends added some of their own obsolete items with their comments. Let’s see, there were green leisure suits, pet rocks, a lava lamp, Cabbage Patch Kids, a typewriter, and even a slide rule (I never even learned how to use one of those babies). My favorite was the mention of Greg Brady bedroom doorway beads. Hmmm, seems the 1970′s were not the best times when it came to styles (including Mike Brady’s man perm).
Actually only one person on Facebook defended the once-venerable phone book: my cousin Mary. But then again her husband Scott, as she said, “Makes money making those things.” I had forgotten about that; I should have hidden the status update from her.
It reminded me of the time about twenty years ago when Scott opened up a shop called Copy Break which not only made copies, but provided something new and exciting, namely facsimile services. Remember how nifty the fax machine was? Scott’s company did a kick-butt business providing this service, which quickly became indispensable to many. Yet, incredibly, thanks to scanners fax machines now are mostly obsolete too, and, not coincidentally, Copy Break long ago shut its doors.
Now, I am not always in the forefront when it comes to state of the art technology, but thanks to my kids I know what’s out there. Especially when it comes to music. Which is why I have owned copies of some albums such as “Who’s Next” in vinyl, 8-Track, cassette, CD, and now on iTunes. Not only are CD’s soon to be as extinct as fax machines, but I read last month iPod Classics are no longer going to be made. Apple keeps pushing forward.
But apparently not so for the people who make phone books. Two additional people who commented on Facebook noted their phone books went right into the recycle bin. It reminded me of a story I read last year about how some phone books are being recycled by hospitals. As disposable bedpans.
I think there’s a message there somewhere, isn’t there?
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