Every now and then, a little change reminds me that I’ve been around awhile. What’s that word I’m looking for? Oh yeah. Old.
I remember when a postage stamp was three cents. Now it’s 44. (I had to check.)
I remember when my mother gave me two quarters to buy her two packs of cigarettes. (How strange does that sound now?) Now they cost, well, thank heaven I quit.
And I remember when we had to dial only five digits to make a local phone call. Our number was 20278. TRinity 20278. I liked those prefixes. It gave you an identity of sorts. My grandparents were BEacon. The family plumbing business was COmmonwealth 63613 (and still is, as I just discovered!).
And, of course, you actually had to dial. You liked telephone numbers with lots of ones, twos and threes. Quick to dial. Nines and zeros seemingly took forever. And the phones sat on a table or desk. Not to be moved. Heavy enough to be classified as a blunt object.
Then TR turned into 87, and the seven-digit dialing era was underway. Then came area codes, which also provided an identity of sorts (who was happy to give up 203 for 860, huh?).
Saturday begins the era of 10-digit dialing, even to call your next-door neighbor. The latest little change that reminds me that I’m…(sigh).
But that’s good.