Now, a lot of time when I talk to those older than me, we’ll lapse into discussions about things that are no longer a part of our lives. The one that caught my attention was phone books. Actually, the person who mentioned this was at least twenty years younger than me, but it very well may be that the time frame is such that we are both doddering old. She’s in charge of commodities at the Palmer Senior Center.

But phone books – I said that my cousins, who were short, put them on car seats so they could see over the steering wheel. She said that she used to stand on them and in this way so as to be able to reach topmost shelves. I said that I used to draw horses in them. She said that phone books made great paperweights.

Yes, those were the days. I attempted to engage her in a conversation about ditto machines, but by then she’d turned her attention in the direction of someone who was attempting to take two items from table two. (You are supposed to just take one item.)

The box at Raven Hall

I do know that as technology has evolved, speed has been built in to be of the essence. For instance, gas pumps used to be really slow. So did the use of dials on rotary phones. And cash registers – there were fewer people back then, so the lines were not so long, even though it took a while to ring up the goods. Now with scanners, you can be in and out of the store in nanoseconds.

So those who are older acquire a shitload of memories. And also, a shitload of stories. It is opposite of the way that it’s supposed to be – as you age, you become invisible. It should be the other way around. Those who are older should be revered.

And what will I remember about today? I took Hrimmi out, around the loop, up Sebastian’s Road, and down Siggi’s trail. I have to work with her on moving faster. But the memory – as I was passing by the place that was formerly owned by Idiot Boy and is now owned by Idiot Neighbors, their dog started barking at us. It’s a large wirehair something or other. The neighbor who purchased Jim’s place yelled at the dog. I can deduce from this that the new neighbors are not happy with their new neighbors. I am glad that I am not at the center of this conflict. Just as long as they keep their dogs tied up, I got no argument with them.

Tonight, after a long day at the Alaska State Fair, we stopped and visited with John DePriest, our hay dealer. Such a nice fellow. He owns a large black Ausie that is lacking a tale. There was also another dog there who is also lacking a tail as well as lacking a leg. I asked him what happened to the dog’s leg, and he said it was caught in a trap – a neighbor set a series of them by mailboxes.

Fair business went well. More books going out tomorrow.

Next: 236. 8/31/23: Good by August