Antiquation

It's very easy to sound ancient: just tell someone the cost of something from before they were born or were at least very young. The teller has a different viewpoint, however, because as hoary as we might become, anything that has happened within our own lifespans, tends to seem at least somewhat current — certainly not prehistoric anyway.

I don't know how many times I heard my dad reminisce about getting a made-to-measure suit for ten dollars from Tip Top Tailors. To me, that was tantamount to dating himself as antediluvian. Although I now have a better temporal frame of reference and I get more or less get it with regards to the fleetingness of it all, when I recall that statement of his, he still tends to seem almost primordial to me. In point of fact, however, there was only a thirty year gap between our two arrivals on planet Earth.

So kiddies: it's my turn to don the cloak of ancient venerability by passing this tidbit on to you. Today, I just signed a contract to install a new furnace. Without revealing the actual dollar amount (because it makes me break down into heart-wrenchingly anguished sobs), let me say that the price tag of this new contraption which will spend its life in our basement is twice that of our first new car. It makes me shake my agin' noggin, I tell ya.

So ... if you like to collect things archaic, don't hesitate to email me. I can send you my address, and you can come and attempt to chip this old fossil out of the surrounding bedrock.