The Loss of Ephemera — Guest Post by The Blonde Bombshell

My son had the opportunity to go skiing at a hotspot out west. One of the first things he was asked was if he had a ski lift pass looped to his zipper. One of the uncles keeps an old lift pass on his winter jacket as a status symbol and we were wondering if he would keep up the tradition. “It’s all an app now,” he said.

Convenient, yes. But what are the implications? Grades for the kids come in an email to mom and dad. Consequently, the burden of that long walk home in anticipation of the parental reaction of a less-than-good grade has been lifted. Some might argue that emailed grades are a net positive. But is it? In the olden days, kids knew their grades before their parents—and isn’t that the natural order of things? I have an assortment of old report cards and class assignments from my children—and they are charming and fun to have.

Another loss is having photographs. Granted, more photos are taken now than ever before. Before the iPhone, we had to be more judicious with pictures as it cost something to have them processed. So, every single moment wasn’t committed to film, but enough were. Now, photos are stacked up on one’s phone—are they every revisited and reviewed again after the first flush of excitement?

When we used to visit the grandparents, grandma had a stack of recent photos to show off. The family was quite large and it was not always easy for everyone to see each other, but the stacks of photos were passed around and good wishes and glad tidings were bestowed on those who didn’t happen to be in the room at that moment.

Newspapers are a relic, too. Someone’s small achievement—the honor roll, the big catch—both in terms of fishes and brides—the birth announcement, the obituary—were publicly documented carefully clipped by someone’s loved one to save. And not just milestones. My grandmother was big on clipping articles and enclosing them with her typed correspondence. Professors would tape funny-yet-relevant cartoon strips on their office doors, next to mundane announcements of office hours or flyers for next specialty club meeting. And just a note on cartoons—the few that are allowed to grace the paltry Sunday supplement—when did they stop being funny? The Sunday comics used to have some heft and took some time to enjoy.

Letters have been replaced with email and text messages. And email and text messaging has lost their punch as some bot has the nerve to suggest ways for you to phrase your thoughts. I have letters from my father and my grandmother. I have letters that my father wrote to his mother. I have letters that I wrote to my father and my grandmother, as the wheel of time turns. None are remarkable, but tell the tale of the everyday events of times that now seem as remote in history as the glory days of Rome.

Naturally, there are ebooks, which cut down on so-called library clutter. But is having a physical copy of a book actually “clutter”? Personally, I can stare at an ebook screen for hours and walk away feeling like nothing has been absorbed. The words are the same as on a paper book, but it seems that there is a barrier, at least for me, that stops the meaning from penetrating. Others love the ebook medium, and that is fine for them, and I have no objection to their private enjoyment.

Magazines used to be a staple in every American home. There were magazines for men, like Field and Stream or maybe something more racy, and for women, there was Family Circle, Women’s Day, and the queen—Good Housekeeping. The only place I’ve seen magazines in the wild is in a doctor’s office. And even then, it raises questions of sanitation. The women’s magazines listed above in the 1970s and early 1980s were well rounded and offered recipes, craft ideas, and other news for moms. As time progressed, the recipes got simpler and the craft ideas became less complicated. What stopped me from being a regular reader was when the craft offered was to stitch a folded potholder to make a case for eyeglasses. Prior, the crafts presented would require a bit of know-how—such as a pattern for a crocheted toy or a sewn doll or some kind of embroidery that could be a family heirloom. While I am sad about the demise of magazines, it might be deserved.

When you go to the movies—there are no more tickets. Plus, booking in advance using an app just adds another layer of inconvenience. And at the end, there is no little stub to tuck away for later or to use as a bookmark. Subway tokens gave way to the MetroCard which gave way to OMNY, a digital travel pass. Airline tickets, train tickets—all digital. I used to love the click-click-click that echoed from the next car on NJ Transit, knowing that the guy would be coming soon for you. It’s a little sad that it’s gone—all gone—and it just didn’t disappear over decades, but over a much shorter period of time.

So, here we are, living without proof of our existence or the things that we’ve accomplished. What records we do have—the stored digital files—when we vanish from this earth, so too, will they.

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