First, I am grateful to not be bickering over identity, political alignment , the general misanthropic discourses of our discontented age. Instead, a near universal problem for those accustomed to Western ease. Your assertions and testimony , spot on; only this week, a treasured toaster, nearly 25 years old- so a "newish" one, appeared t…
First, I am grateful to not be bickering over identity, political alignment , the general misanthropic discourses of our discontented age. Instead, a near universal problem for those accustomed to Western ease. Your assertions and testimony , spot on; only this week, a treasured toaster, nearly 25 years old- so a "newish" one, appeared to be in its death throes . We panicked for no repair shop would touch it- for if it isn't a SubZero refrigerator or a Wolf range, society does not consider it worth a repair. Mournfully we purchased an expensive replacement , it sparkled with the gloss of newness but promised nothing- thankfully the household gods shone and the "problem", one we overlooked, was simply a minor household electrical one. With great glee I shipped the flashy usurping toaster trash back to its maker and my creaky old toaster now receives the homage of a dowager.
The truth is unless you are willing to go down the SubZero/Wolf route, which we do frequently, you cannot possess the most reasonable expectation that carrots will actually be peeled nor expect reasonable responsibility from its makers. We've become so accustomed to the insubstantial, materially , culturally and spiritually that as you mention Morris' dictum (of which I have spent my life heeding) is near impossible.
I've resorted to anachronisms, I now use a fountain pen, an aesthetic experience that slows one down and reveals the grace of cursive ; bar soap only, liquid soap are an insult to our ancestors who spent countless generations perfecting the hardening of fat into solid; thrift and antique shops as often as poossible- the perversity that an 18th century chair can be found far cheaper than a landfill bound Target seating is a testimony to our decline.
And I try to chuckle at the fact that at long last I am the grumpy old man I always wanted to be and that I have so much to gripe about . God bless, Happy Chanukah, Merry Christmas, happy New Year 🕊
I'm an avid photographer. I have a 1930s Leica that still runs like a champ, and remains repairable if it breaks. Can't say the same of my digital camera. One of my daughters resurrected a mechanical typewriter, and an even older (pre WWI) camera. 2 others regularly use turntables and records now. Pentax announced this week that they will being making new fully mechanical SLR cameras soon - after they re-learn how to do it before they forget entirely.
I don't know how many electric hand mixers I've gone through in 30 years of married life--at least 5 or 6, if not more. When I fell heir to my mom's ancient GE hand mixer, I tucked it away, only pulling it out after my last "new" one died.
Based on the styling, it must be at *least* 50 years old, if not 60. It still works just fine.
This is so true. My dad, who grew up in post-war Romania, always told us how he had one pencil that had to last the whole school year. He used it down to the nub. And paper was a whole other rarity. But it had value. I suppose when we gained access to everything it lost its value and in turn its worth. Which is worse? Not having it or not wanting it? Happy holidays to you. :)
First, I am grateful to not be bickering over identity, political alignment , the general misanthropic discourses of our discontented age. Instead, a near universal problem for those accustomed to Western ease. Your assertions and testimony , spot on; only this week, a treasured toaster, nearly 25 years old- so a "newish" one, appeared to be in its death throes . We panicked for no repair shop would touch it- for if it isn't a SubZero refrigerator or a Wolf range, society does not consider it worth a repair. Mournfully we purchased an expensive replacement , it sparkled with the gloss of newness but promised nothing- thankfully the household gods shone and the "problem", one we overlooked, was simply a minor household electrical one. With great glee I shipped the flashy usurping toaster trash back to its maker and my creaky old toaster now receives the homage of a dowager.
The truth is unless you are willing to go down the SubZero/Wolf route, which we do frequently, you cannot possess the most reasonable expectation that carrots will actually be peeled nor expect reasonable responsibility from its makers. We've become so accustomed to the insubstantial, materially , culturally and spiritually that as you mention Morris' dictum (of which I have spent my life heeding) is near impossible.
I've resorted to anachronisms, I now use a fountain pen, an aesthetic experience that slows one down and reveals the grace of cursive ; bar soap only, liquid soap are an insult to our ancestors who spent countless generations perfecting the hardening of fat into solid; thrift and antique shops as often as poossible- the perversity that an 18th century chair can be found far cheaper than a landfill bound Target seating is a testimony to our decline.
And I try to chuckle at the fact that at long last I am the grumpy old man I always wanted to be and that I have so much to gripe about . God bless, Happy Chanukah, Merry Christmas, happy New Year 🕊
I'm an avid photographer. I have a 1930s Leica that still runs like a champ, and remains repairable if it breaks. Can't say the same of my digital camera. One of my daughters resurrected a mechanical typewriter, and an even older (pre WWI) camera. 2 others regularly use turntables and records now. Pentax announced this week that they will being making new fully mechanical SLR cameras soon - after they re-learn how to do it before they forget entirely.
I don't know how many electric hand mixers I've gone through in 30 years of married life--at least 5 or 6, if not more. When I fell heir to my mom's ancient GE hand mixer, I tucked it away, only pulling it out after my last "new" one died.
Based on the styling, it must be at *least* 50 years old, if not 60. It still works just fine.
This is so true. My dad, who grew up in post-war Romania, always told us how he had one pencil that had to last the whole school year. He used it down to the nub. And paper was a whole other rarity. But it had value. I suppose when we gained access to everything it lost its value and in turn its worth. Which is worse? Not having it or not wanting it? Happy holidays to you. :)