On occasion, I tell the person to whom I am talking that I miss video stores. As a movie aficionado, a trip to the video store represented an event to me. As an experienced video store visitor, I knew they might not have the titles I wanted to rent, so I always went armed with a list – sometimes in writing – of alternative selections.
I’m sharing this “thing I miss” with you, my dear readers, because I recently stumbled onto a discussion about things people don’t miss. For example, the subject of video stores reminds me that I don’t miss having to rewind VHS tapes. Yes, I was kind and always chose to rewind.
In fact, I splurged on a rewinder to aid in the chore because someone told me doing so would help save the VCR heads. By the way, I have no idea if that is true, what it means, or how many heads an average VCR boasted. For all I know, the person who offered the advice could have owned stock in a company that produced rewinders.
Of course, the rewinder didn’t help if I had recorded a week’s worth of TV and/or movies and needed to rewind or fast-forward until I located that sweet spot on the tape that featured the latest episode of “Alf.” All that rewinding and fast-forwarding couldn’t have been good for the VCR’s heads. Maybe that’s why most of the VCRs in my past eventually malfunctioned, mangling tapes in the process.
So, no, I don’t miss VCRs, VCR tapes, or, for that matter, cassette tapes. Sure, I miss making mixed tapes for myself and friends and receiving mixed tapes as gifts. But you never knew when a hungry tape player would eat a cassette, either homemade or brought on. And I don’t miss 8-tracks and the annoying way they interrupted songs, either.
Nor do I miss rotary phones. What’s more, I shudder when I consider how we tempted fate by answering the phone without already knowing the identity of the caller. What were we thinking? Literally anybody could have been on the other line.
Anyway, when I moved into my house nearly 16 years ago, I found a rotary phone in a closet. It eventually found its way to the garage and, back in the spring, into the car of the family hoarder. Although they initially seemed flabbergasted by the relic, my great-niece and great-nephew eventually became enamored by it. They took turns dragging it across the floor and making calls.
Someday, I’ll tell them about pay phones. I’ll explain that although pay phones saved me a couple times, the reception was poor and I always wondered about the hygiene of the people who used the phones before I did. And I’ll make sure they know I don’t miss them.
This post originally appeared in the Appalachian News-Express.