Now & Then: From old to new, and back

Dear Nephew,

Your Uncle Ambrose is old school.

He’s so old school that he planned to drive the wheels off that ’79 Malibu. And he would have if he hadn’t been rear-ended by an F-150.

So what’d he do with his insurance settlement? He bought a ’78 Malibu.

“I like a car I can work on myself,” your uncle explained. What he hasn’t adequately explained are all those mechanic bills.

For years your Uncle Ambrose refused to make a single keystroke on our desktop computer. He always said he preferred paper and ink.

He only changed his tune when this sweet little thing in cutoff jeans announced that she was going to teach social media skills down at the tackle and bait shop.

His justification? “I’m gettin’ old, Vic, and I need a way to keep up with all my buddies when I can’t leave the house.”

Now he’s a Facebook freak, posting and liking and sharing to beat the band. And his list of “friends” is disproportionately young and female.

So how does this fit with your uncle being old school? Well, most all his Facebook posts are on a site called “I wish I could be back in the ’50s.”

And he refuses to get a smartphone, saying, “If I want to listen to telemarketers, I’ll sit at my desk and wait for my old black dial phone to ring.”

When I reminded your uncle that he can take photos on a smartphone, he just humphed, “My old Kodak works just fine. But I do wish the Megamaximart hadn’t closed its photo shop. Film is hard to find these days, much less to get developed.”

Despite all the hours your Uncle Ambrose spends on Facebook, he still plays Solitaire with a deck of cards. In the time it takes me to win a game on the computer, he’s still laying out his cards on the table.

While your uncle may be behind the times in lots of ways, he has always tried to make my housework easier. That included buying a dishwasher and washer and dryer when our kids were small and dirtying up lots of bowls and clothes.

Well, one day recently my dryer finally gave up the ghost.

“Oh Am,” I said. “The dryer’s not working and I have a load of wet clothes. I guess I’ll have to take them to the laundromat.”

“No way my Vic is going to lug all those clothes downtown,” he said. “I’ll fix something to dry the clothes.”

In case you’ve forgotten, your uncle has always seen himself as sort of an engineer. He thrives when he has a problem to solve.

So, with a washer full of clothes waiting, your uncle went into his shop and began rummaging through stuff he’s been saving since the ’60s. After about 30 minutes, he came out and headed for the backyard.

“Hey Am,” I yelled. “The wet clothes are in here.”

‘Gimme a few minutes,” he said. “I’m workin’ on somethin’.”

I watched him from the window as he brought out a coil of vinyl-coated clothesline cord. He tied one end to a pine tree and the other to a maple. To brace the line in the middle, he set up a folding ladder.

“There you go, Vic. Now you can dry your clothes.”

“I’ll need clothes pins,” I said. “A 50-pack should do.”

“This is just temporary,” he said soothingly. “I’ll go by the appliance store to order you a new dryer.”

“Well, don’t forget the dryer sheets,” I reminded him.

“Oh, well, whatever that is,” he mumbled.

Yes, your Uncle Ambrose is old school. But you know what? He’s MY old school.

Love, 

Your Uncle Ambrose and Aunt Victoria

■ Larry Penkava is a writer for Randolph Hub. Contact: 336-302-2189, larrypenkava@gmail.com.