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23
Dec 14
Let’s talk about this guy
Do you notice the problem of symmetry in the following photo?
The pilot comes on to say this curtain — and that’s basically what it is, think of the heaviest curtain you’ve ever seen in a 1960s-70s time capsule home and you’re pretty close — is regarded by the FAA as an essential piece of equipment. And it would need to be replaced.
“Those first class folks don’t need to know you’re back there,” basically.
This after four hours of driving, rain and the mindless inanity of the TSA.
One blue shirt, I promise this is a true story, said to me “We’re just a little short handed tonight is all.”
A guy with a badge in a blue shirt said this to me in the world’s busiest airport on the night before Christmas Eve.
After 20 minutes or so of waiting for my freedom rub I eschewed the silliness of the whole thing, figuring, “Hey, at least the mysterious backscatter disease will get here faster than these people.”
In that time, people are just telling them “Oh, I’m 75,” and they get passed right through. There is a woman who has a singular job, yelling, in vain as it turns out, for opt outs. She puts her whole soul into it, bleating out her nasally phrase every six minutes or so, whether anyone comes or not.
And did you know a handkerchief can stymie the new security equipment?
I learned that safety tidbit tonight, talking with another exasperated blue shirt who was so decidedly going through the motions you wanted to ask him how far away his supervisor was just then.
So, yeah, this was what you then wanted to see for an hour:
Which is not fair. I timed it. The elapsed time from this gentleman bringing the new essential curtain onto the plane until he put his tools away was just over 14 minutes. The delay caused by it, mind you, was about an hour. This on top of a scheduling delay because of mid-air logistics elsewhere. Also, there’s weather coming in.
And this thing is broken. We were just about the first ones on the plane and saw it hanging dangerously close to failure, threatening to let the two classes of passengers mix without regard to proper aeronautical decorum. And so they took it down, the announcement was made and they scrounged up another from somewhere. Meaning there’s a room in the airport with these things in them.
Somehow, this is how you know you aren’t in the Matrix. That would just sort of pop right into place without you every consciously realizing why, the glitch in the Matrix from which you would benefit. Not us, though, not tonight.
It was decided, at one point, that this was a weight-bearing curtain. Why else could it be essential? And if that doesn’t make you want to drive everywhere, you’re a braver traveler than I.
But let’s talk about this guy. Everyone is staring at him. He’s struggling with the essential equipment. There’s a flight attendant holding this flashlight. Passengers are trying to “help.” The captain, who clearly has places to be, has come back to inspect the progress. And this poor guy knows everyone is watching him and they all want to be anywhere but on this tarmac, still. And he would like to have Christmas too.
I feel for the guy.
Meanwhile:
But we made it. One more destination safely reached. More lovely people to see. More snacks and Christmas cheer to pace ourselves on. One more misuse of the word “legendary.”
“Sit back, relax and enjoy our legendary Delta cabin service.”
Tell me another one, Santa.
22
Dec 14
Back in Polaroid time
My grandmother dug through the furniture and who knows where else she keeps it all, but she produced three albums and four boxes of photos tonight. I started her down this path by asking about a CD someone brought over several years ago that traced my grandfather’s family back to his grandfather through photographs.
It was essentially half an hour of people I didn’t know, mysterious black-and-white shots of people my grandmother knew as adults and then the later, questionable, hair and clothing styles of those later adults.
So we watched the disc and she named people and guessed at others. And then, somehow, we found ourselves in the back of the house. I was staring at pictures of my grandparents looking into a camera two decades younger than I am now. My wife was taking pictures of me from three decades ago. Suddenly we all felt so young, and so old. And it was all interesting and weird, except to see those that are gone, now, and to count them all up in your head.
I want to hear these stories and one day I want to ask a lot of questions about them, for posterity’s sake. Some of that information should continue on, somewhere, but I’m not sure if there’s much of an appetite for it. So it should be me that does it, then. And then my grandmother says “They’re all gone now, except for those two girls,” it breaks your heart a little to ask her to think about it.
On the other hand, the two times that I’ve started to dig into this a little bit, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a more real smile than when my grandmother is talking about her grandmother. It is worth it for that alone.
Anyway, some pictures.
That guy could straight up sing:
Stringbean, my grandmother said, always wore his pants like this. So he was fashion forward.
David Akeman and his wife were killed by burglars in their home in 1973. (One of their killers died in prison in 1973. The other was paroled just last month.)
But he could play that banjo, she insisted. No kidding. I picked this one because Porter Wagoner was my grandfather’s favorite, and Roger Miller shows up, he was one of my favorites:
If you hear the term clawhammer in a musical sense, this is the meaning. It is, now, considered the “old style” of banjo playing. (Earl Scruggs, who replaced Akeman in the great Bill Monroe band, is the pioneer of the “new” three-finger style.)
I don’t remember Akeman on Hee Haw reruns, but he was there. I’m sure we all laughed at his jokes, my grandparents and me, when the scarecrow was on camera. And now that entire show suddenly seems like a portal into a different time, my grandparents watching stars they’d grown up and were growing old with. Bright colors and bad puns beamed to their antennae, guest hosts and bad skits, all of the stuff in between hearing the songs they knew.
I’m even less certain why people collect head shots and autographs of politicians, but it makes the politicians happy. Once upon a time, at least, one of these was in a lot of homes in Alabama.
I wonder where my grandparents picked all of those up.
Here she is now. She figures she was about 18 or 19 in this picture.
“Let’s talk about this wallpaper,” I said.
“Let’s not,” she said.
She’s such a sweetheart.
21
Dec 14
What were you wearing?
The fashion isn’t that different. Our shoes haven’t really changed at all. But as soon as my grandfather dropped the 1992-1993 Sears catalog in my lap today, we all knew we were going to make fun of it.
(I like that I have this reputation in the family now.)
So I sat down with the book and we looked through 1,600+ pages and laughed and remembered things we’d seen or similar things we owned. We got about two hours of fun out of this. And then I took about three dozen pictures and put them on Twitter. Here are some of them now.
Feel free to raise your hand and shout out when you see something you know. We all lived this together.
“We ruffled this white cotton broadcloth shirt to make it softer, more feminine.”
That’s a direct quote by the way. There was nothing in there about the broad hips look, which informed much of the Clinton era, I’m sure.
This is also a quote. Please note the punctuation “Cotton denim shorts updated with a relaxed fit…and longer legs you can roll up!”
Previously, I had thought that this length would be suitable to avoid the on-rushing tides of bad 90s sitcoms. But, I’ve now learned I need to roll up my jean shorts a few inches more. Thanks, Sears!
This garment-washed skirt is “an integral day-off piece!”
The belt, the catalog tells us, is sold separately.
Scientists have searched for decades now, but this is the incontrovertible proof of the moment when the ’80s ended:
Now, the original photo doesn’t cut off those nice ladies at the knees, but those outfits are made of Dacron polyester. As you know, in this, the more enlightened 21st century, fire marshals have rules against that much hazardous material on one page.
Sears, where flight attendants shop. Or were they still stewardesses then?
This style is coming back. These styles always come back.
Somehow, this is still on sale in Alabama. (A friend noted that her mother had it.)
No. No, it does not. “This on-the-go jumpsuit works from 9 to 5 and beyond.”
The same might have been said about that idea even then.
Models are asked to give a sense of confident, self-assuredness. She could not pull it off. See why.
The 1970s lingered a long time, like two made-up ladies lingering over coffee in flannel gowns.
They are liable to reappear at any moment you relax your guard, as well. We must remain ever-vigilant.
I promise I’m not just picking on the ladies, I’m also criticizing the children. This adorable kid is probably about 23 now. You know this picture came out a lot in The Teen Years.
Proof that, in the 1990s, toddlers could read.
Of course you might get a visit from the state for that sleeping setup today.
“Hey ladies … ” Somebody made this kid do it, but when you pop the collar on your denim tuxedo …
Speaking of someone made him do it … Gentlemen! Time to argue you never liked any of this stuff.
Before Good Will Hunting there was this. And these shirts. Jason Bourne has amnesia and is mortified.
Maybe it isn’t Matt Damon, but if this guy is interested in stunt work, and a different wardrobe …
“I enjoy starting fires by hand and wearing purple turtlenecks. No, I don’t coach LSU basketball.”
Not a good look for you, pal.
“Make yourself at home while I slip into something more comfortable…with contrasting piping…”
The ’90s, when working men looked like catalog models. Simpler times.
“I will never regret this workout.”
Every 1970 fear monger’s vision: people walking out of showers without having gotten wet.
“Six of the bridesmaids canceled. What am I going to do with all of this material?”
…
“I know!”
“Wicker. For when you need to burn your home. For insurance purposes.”
“So you just want us to sit here and be monochromatically awkward? Can do.”
“A drummer in a metal band you’ve never heard of, Sears catalog reader, says these drums rock.” These will run you $900.
And while I wish I could “Where are they now all of these people, Craig Kasin here is the only one with a name in the book.
He pops up in two or three bands that have some devoted followers, but not what you’d think of as mainstream “This is our pitchman!” success. The last reference I see is to a 2003 project Kasin was tied into with the old Nitro bandmates in a new group. But I can’t even determine if it got off the ground.
Perhaps if he was banging Royce pro drums …
In the ’90s, magazine visual editors thought, people are going to microwave their turkey!
Before we wrap this up, let’s at least be fair one time. They did get a lot of things right. The cover, for example:
Finally, while I flipped through more than 1,600 pages — this catalog was Amazon — I did not find this one at the end.
If it was placed on the inside back cover, though, it would have been worth it.
It would have been completely worth it.
And as soon as the model took that off, the “Inspired by Healthco” line was never worn by anyone, ever again.
Want more? Check out #92SearsCatalog.
