You may not realize it, but two ancient cultural forces that have been at odds with each other for centuries—work and play—are finally starting to bury the proverbial hatchet, at least in the Western world.
Consider the following:
I was hiking with my friend, a doctor. We were an hour from the city, surrounded by trees, bugs, and sunshine. It was a holiday weekend, and we were there to relax.
I remember a story about a woman who always cut the end off the roast. Asked why, she said it was because her mother did. Someone asked her mother, and the mother said the same thing—because her mother did. Grandmother, tracked down and asked the same question, said, “Because I never had a pan big enough.”
Tradition lives on in our kitchens, at least through some of the foods we eat.
One of the surprises in my lifetime has been the change in the sound of a construction site. Where I once heard hammering and hand-sawing, I now hear the sound of air compressors, nail guns, and power saws. It’s not uncommon to hear music, too—at least until the neighbors complain.
Basically, you can’t build a house or most anything else today without electricity.
An Elephant Never Forgives
On 4 January 1903, Thomas Edison killed Topsy, an elephant at Coney Island whose penchant for peanuts had been replaced by a vengeance for her trainers, and who, people would argue, might have had it coming.
Edison had no personal vendetta against Topsy.
As unpleasant as air travel is today, I still do a fair bit of it. My wont is to sit by the window, either well back of or well forward of the wing, and snap pictures of clouds, lakes, cities, towns, mountains, rivers, and anything else I find interesting—when I’m not napping, that is.
It’s 1825 and our ancestors in America are enjoying some relaxing family time on a summer evening. The pre-teens don’t have personal DVD players. The teenagers aren’t grooving to their iPods. Mom isn’t chattering on the phone. Dad isn’t staring at the television. And absolutely no one is surfing the Web.
Not long ago, I came into possession of some photos that were taken about fifty years ago by my grandparents—pictures of a vacation through the southwest. My grandmother, looking quite a bit younger than I remember her, was climbing on a large road sign. I think it said “Welcome to Arizona” or the like.
My mother’s family came from Oklahoma. In exploring my family’s past, I came across the Historical Atlas of Oklahoma, a book with a whole lot of maps that I find appealing. My third edition trumpets on the cover that it’s “updated from the 1980 census.” The book includes maps of early trails, cattle trails, and railroads.
So you think you know something about the census? Genealogists love the U.S. federal census. There is a unique thrill to finding these snapshots of our families, spaced ten years apart. If that was all it was, it would be wonderful, but just like they say on TV—wait, there’s more.