Answering Machines

Dear Ian:
When I was growing up, there was no such thing as an answering machine. Obviously, at this point, you have to be thinking that a lot of these letters are starting to have a pretty common theme: "back when I was a boy." And you are right.

We used to, sort of, poke fun at my grandpa for the same reason. The winters were always colder, walking a mile was that much longer, and life was always oh so much simpler. The thing is, most of that is true. Granted there were a lot of really troublesome aspects of growing up in whatever era it is that we are referring to (for your great grandpa is was outhouses and for me it was the lack of a 3 minute microwavable baked potato). But overall, when anyone refers to simpler times with any amount of fondness, you can rest assured that they are being sincere. You will do the same, as I am certain technology will continue to make things faster, stronger, etc.

That is if my generation hasn't managed to burn a hole in the ozone by then. For that I apologize in advance (and it's probably a much longer letter later, as well).

Anyhow, back to the point of answering machines. Believe it or not, there was once a time when you could not be reached quickly by phone. Before there were palm sized cell phones one could actually escape communication.

While the telephone may have initiated the death of the letter, the answering machine made every effort to deliver the killing blow. People, of course, attempted to make answering machines "fun" by recording hilarious outgoing messages.

Your grandmother found my Christmas one quite distasteful and told me so in no uncertain terms. I personally thought that I ransom demand on Santa's reindeer was quite funny.

Anyhow, the incoming messages are really where the things went horribly, horribly wrong. People would leave longwinded (such as this letter) messages with garbled directions, no return phone numbers, and basically say, "Since I couldn't catch you in person and let you say no to my request, I am going to assume that you are in absolute and total agreement to house sit my rabid cat next weekend. Thanks again, bye!"

I hate answering machines.

The other big drawback of answering machines is that you find yourself talking to a machine, but listening to the audible cues that you get in a regular conversation. Listen to two people talking to one another for five minutes. The "silent" participant is still coaxing the conversation along with subtle "yups" and "uh-hunhs."

Oddly enough, though, the internet came along. Then emails. Then blogs.

Perhaps the letter, like the phoenix can rise from the ashes and begin anew. There is hope afterall.