Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Author: admin (Page 114 of 220)

Book’em Danno.

Books have been written about plots and counterplots, conspiracies, and terrorist attacks. I have shelves lined with them. Books have been written, both factual and those built from the imaginations of their authors.

Whether the young men accused in the Boston Marathon bombing are guilty of executing that event, or not, is a matter for the courts, at least for the surviving brother. Without question, they have already been tried in some corners of the media. Other corners will assume them innocent on grounds that authority figures will resort to any measures to bring about a conclusion, including fabricating evidence to support charges.

What cannot be denied is this: we are living in a world consumed with immediacy, social connectivity, and the capability for relentless recording and dissemination of video.

Whether we agree with the practice or not, we – as citizens – have events of our daily lives recorded with remarkable regularity. Look up at a traffic-lighted intersection. Chances are, there is a camera in place, the focus set on your vehicle and recording your activities at that moment.

Moments later, your actions will be caught by another camera at another intersection. And it isn’t just traffic. Store owners and those who have been victimized in particular, are increasingly adding cameras to their electronic loop of security protection. Admittedly, there are areas that cannot rationalize the cost of cameras versus the relative low crime risk. What it amounts to is this: you may be able to run red lights with reckless abandon in rural America without risk of being recorded and/or prosecuted for the violations. (It’s also a lot less risky to run a red light in rural America.)

The idea that a terrorist crime could be committed in a major metropolitan area without some camera being in the vicinity is almost far-fetched. A relative in Chechnya was quoted as saying the accusations against his sons for the Boston explosions amounted to science fiction. It remains to be seen whether those sons are the ones responsible for the bombings, but it would be science fiction to believe (in our current state of technology) that activities at major public events could escape being captured by video.

Not just a random camera.

Look at Facebook. Pictures. Videos. Public. Private. Shameless and shameful. It is proof without question that the lives of the public in general are being recorded from almost every angle imaginable. All day. All night.

There are corners of the world that don’t have the same reverence and respect, adulation, envy, and accumulated indebtedness owing to the world of the cellphone. The US is not among them.

Whatever we may believe about privacy and our own lives, we should have – by now – learned that someone is taking our picture right now either for something we are doing, or something someone is doing nearby. We may only be in the background, but there we are, ready for computer enhancement and identification. Tagging, Facebook calls it.

Even as those who disagree with the technology will complain, they will also have to admit that there is some small measure of reassurance that the risk of being recorded may give pause to some who might consider conducting attacks like the Boston Marathon bombing.

On one hand, it is remarkable that within the course of a business week, an anonymous assault can result in the identification and arrest of a suspect. On the other, it is almost astonishing that anyone in the techno-savvy part of the world could believe it possible to slink away into the shadows without being captured – with authorities completing what was begun by the cameras.

New stuff. Magical.

Maybe it isn’t considered the age of Invention and Wonder, but the years of my youth included enough newly imagined products that it may have de-sensitized me to the process. I didn’t grow up during the Industrial Revolution, but the latter part of the twentieth century did bring out eye-openers like the cellular telephone. And the weedwacker.

(That’s probably not a good description of the range, but you get the idea.)

There were many new items on many new fronts. Microwave ovens. Video games, beginning at Atari. Pong. Oooh. Calculator watches (I didn’t say all the inventions were keepers…)

In the days of my growing up – my youth – we’d turn around and something new would hit us in the face. Sometimes literally. (I got whacked on the forehead by a Frisbee at a Jethro Tull concert at the Convention Center. Ironically, I had just turned back around after warning my buddy Mike to be on the lookout for flying disks. It was his first concert, and I was the experienced venue-pro. Naturally, it hit me instead of him.)

I’ve never surveyed it, but I imagine some people believe these things have been around since the dawn of man. Nah. In a historical sense, many of our everyday comforts are recent contrivances. I remember when Mountain Dew first came out. Yellow liquid that looked a lot like – well, let’s say it didn’t look particularly appealing when poured in a clear glass. That’s why it came out in a green bottle, I suppose.

Something new would come out, and it seemed to be generally accepted without a lot of hoopla or fanfare. I don’t remember lines of people camped out overnight for a chance to buy a portable Compaq computer. (They were so large as to be only marginally portable.) No midnight-opening events for the eight-track tape players. Or the cassettes. None for the VHS, BetaMax, or VideoDisk either, as I recall. (Early DVDs were the size of vinyl records, but I’m betting few of you recall those beasts.)

They might generate a brief Wow, or Hmmmm. The more elaborate items could draw out a Cool! (Or Far-Out, as it tended to be expressed back then.)

Now, though, I find myself taking the time to actually marvel about the products being introduced. Not the phones. I know some of you live and breathe for your cels, but – old school as I am – those are still just telephones to me. And I’ve never been that keen on phone conversations.

Bluetooth, now – that definitely rates a ten on the coolness scale for me. Here, I’ve just berated the cellphone and now I have to backtrack and admit I like being able to take a picture with it and – through a series of onscreen menu choices – send it through the air to my computer. Wireless. Cool. Far-Out. Awesome.

Here’s another. The image is of an approaching storm the other evening. I wasn’t near a television or radio, and knew there was a threat of nasty weather.

“Where is that storm?, I wondered aloud, talking to myself as I am wont to do these days. “How can I find out?”

There is an app for that. Downloaded a powerful weather radar program that even allowed it to email the radar-sweep to someone. I sent a copy to myself, just to see what it looked like on the other end. Click on it and you’ll notice the first wave of severe weather has already moved east of Tulsa and the big blob is still approaching. The calm between the storms was the impetus for my downloading the application. They’d said another wave was coming, and I just wanted to be able to see it. Bam! There it is. Oooh.

The picture of the storm is a still image, but the application does the whole deal, the line that sweeps around in a circle like the second hand of a clock, updating the intensity-color-shades as it passes. Just like the toys of the big TV boys (and girls).

I’m still marveling at the fact that I have access, 24 hours a day, to the same sophisticated technology that the meteorologists have. Of course, I have little or no understanding of what the different settings and screens are for, but I know the big red blobs are danger, Will Robinson. Green? Good. Red, bad. Green, good. Awesome.

There you have the summary of my weather-radar savvy. Color-based.

Cool.

The Rachel Ray of Radio…

iPads. uTubes. iScream uScream. We all scream for ice cream. Then, we whip out our iPods and other such devices. Digital downloads. MP3s. Streaming from the Cloud. That thing called radio is still around, but it is a lot different than it used to be.

For one thing, there weren’t as many stations. FM – in the big scheme of things – was a late-comer to the party. But when it crashed onto the scene, it changed everything.

I’ve mentioned before that I find all sorts of things tucked into the pages of books that come into the shop. (Everything except money…) Today, it was a small, bookmark-sized calendar for 1934. On the back was a listing of radio stations that carried a cooking program called Pet-Milky-Way, “Broadcast direct from the PET MILK KITCHEN.”

The host was Mary Lee Taylor, a nutritionist and home economist for the PET Milk Company. Her program debuted in 1933 on CBS radio and, over time, became the longing running cooking program on radio. Her fifteen minutes aired twice a week, originally on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and was available to listeners in Oklahoma City and beyond on KOMA radio.

(Waaay back when, my friends and I called that radio station “coma” because we believed it was our job to be smart-alecky. We worked hard at it, but the pay was below minimal.)

Mary Lee later had the show evolve into more than just cooking tips. “The Story of the Week” featured the lives of a young married couple named Jim and Sally Carter. A soap opera for the kitchen crowd. When the hi-jinks and drama were over, Mary Lee would sit down at the microphone and present a complete menu that featured recipes using PET Milk. (I feel compelled to explain that PET Milk is a condensed product – evaporated milk – that comes in a can and was popular in the days before refrigerators. I know some folks use it still, because I see it on the shelf at Reasors. These days, I suppose it is used in baking and other specialty recipes.)

People liked her cooking tips, so she wrote a cookbook. She offered free recipes by mail. Chances are, one of your grandmothers sent off for one, or knew someone who did. In 1948, the show moved from CBS to NBC radio, still back in those days when the big national networks had a radio presence.

She kept at it until 1954, completing more than two decades broadcasting from the Pet Milk Kitchen. One of the original foodies, I suppose. The Rachel Ray of her day. Truth is, she wasn’t Rachel Ray or even Mary Lee Taylor.

Her real name was Erma Proetz.

The Mary Lee Taylor thing was her radio pseudonym. Something that she just baked up – I guess.

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