Signatures

Remember when library books had a pocket that held an index-sized card glued to the inside cover?  Glued opposite the pocket was a piece of paper lined off in boxes.  To check out the book you removed the card and signed your name.  The librarian stamped the date due next to your signature and also on the paper glued in the book.  They kept the card in a file so they knew who had the book.

I still remember how grown-up it felt when I was eight and was asked to sign my name on those cards.  Now we just hand over our library card to be scanned or swiped.  Do kids currently get to sign their names anywhere?  On schoolwork they're probably asked to print ...

Adults don't sign things as much as we used to, either.  Few write checks when shopping and even for charges we don't have to sign unless the purchase is over some amount, $25 or $50 depending on the store.  Bills get paid on line; no checks to sign. 

Handwriting is becoming an old-fashioned skill.  It's not taught in many schools.  The increasing use of PINS, electronic signatures, thumb prints, retinal scans and whatever new techy biometric is on the horizon mean hand-written signatures as proof of identity are maybe already obsolete.  The tech solutions, especially biometrics, are certainly harder to forge, which means better security.  But we've lost the visible individuality of our John Hancocks.

(image from HERE)

The use of that famous man's name as a synonym for signature will become one of those sayings that no one under a certain age will understand.

That makes me sad.

Thanksgiving Day and Reminisces

I’m grateful for living now, for the advancements and changes that I’ve seen over the past half century.  Reduced discrimination, increased opportunities, amazing technology. 

Distance from events changes our perspective.  I can even be grateful for those people in my life when I was young who told me “girls can’t do that” and “college is wasted on girls, especially you.”  Those statements hurt, but gave me the drive to prove them wrong.  Pushed me right into an A average and advanced degree in oceanography.  

As an undergraduate I had several classes where I was either the only woman or one of two women, and I went to a large state school (FSU).  In graduate school I was one of three women students in the department.  We had one woman professor.  One!  A woman of awesomeness, a full professor with a PhD in physics who held a joint appointment in Oceanography and Geophysical Fluid Dynamics. (*waves*  Hi, Ruby, if you ever see this.)  There were cruises where I was the only woman on board. 

There was discrimination.  The professor who graded the women lower for the same answers as the men.  We ended up in the department chair’s office over that one.  :)   The chief scientist on a cruise who gave me the 2 to 4 watch (that’s 2 pm to 4 pm AND 2 am to 4 am - the absolute worst shift) and ‘joked’ it would put me in my place and teach me women didn’t belong at sea.  That was my first deep water cruise and my first as the only woman in the scientific party.  A hurricane formed over our sample site (Anita) and we ran for port at the same speed the storm was building.  Sitting in the galley with my life jacket after a 4 am shift, along with more than half the crew, I was told I needed to get a knife before my next cruise (they assumed I’d be back; they were right) and a lively discussion ensued on the merits of fixed blade vs switch blade which included demonstrations.  I was quizzed on how to determine where I was relative to the door if we capsized.  Fifty knot winds, 10 meter seas (on a 100 meter vessel) for two days, chugging along at 13 knots was a hell of an initiation.  The wooden fruit bowl in a macramé hanger near the entrance to the galley was swinging to within a foot of the ceiling.

I bought a knife.  Not the type recommended, but one I was comfortable carrying.  It lived in the pocket of my jeans whenever I was at sea. 

I am grateful for all the people who encouraged me over the years, the folks who still encourage me when I tackle tasks I’m not sure I can manage.  Who remind me my toolbox is deep, my knowledge base broad. 

Attitudes have changed.  What was once not even considered as realistic (women firefighters, multiracial marriage, same sex marriage) is now either mainstream or moving in that direction.  

There are still challenges.  Discrimination isn’t gone.  Climate change has been ignored by policy makers for too long - drought killed more civilizations than wars ever did.

We can’t let those with small imaginations and limited ideas prevent us from following our dreams and accomplishing our goals.  I'm grateful I learned that lesson early. 

Drivers Ed

Today I made my annual trek to the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles) office to renew the sticker on my car’s license plate.  My timing was good; the line wasn’t very long and I was only in there about ten minutes.  Most of the chairs were occupied by students from a driving school, all in bright blue t-shirts with the school’s name and phone number across their backs in Large Letters.  They were probably there for their learner’s permits.  While I waited in line another drivers ed company brought in about a dozen students in bright red t-shirts with the company name on the front. 

Summer recess just started for the high schools around here. 

The local high schools do teach drivers ed, but because of funding cuts there are limited spaces.  Who gets in is decided by lottery.  Everyone else must take one of these commercial classes because the State of Illinois requires professional instruction. 

Things were different in my day.  (OMG I’m old enough to write that!)  Drivers education was a required course in high school; everyone took it. There was a movie we all had to watch - they showed it in the auditorium - called “Mechanized Death” or something equally horrid.  The cameramen accompanied EMTs to car accidents and filmed them saving lives - or not.  Several people fainted, including at least one guy.  I cheated by covering my eyes. 

For me, the school behind-the-wheel instruction included a stop at Dog and Suds.  Do they still exist?  It was a drive-in hot dogs and root beer place.  You parked, and when they brought your order it was on a tray that hooked over the window opening of the car.  Our instructor called it parking practice.  He always paid for root beer for himself and the three students in the car.  It was pull-straight-into-the-parking-spot-and-straight-out-again parking.  I have no memory of what kind of car the school had us drive.

When I finally got brave enough to go for my drivers test, here’s what I drove ... a Ford Galaxy 500. 

Not sure I’ve got the year right, and my dad wouldn’t have been caught dead in a car this color, but you get the idea.  (I think the only acceptable car colors for Dad were black, grey and white.)

I failed the driving test.  Asked to parallel park on a hill, I was too far from the curb and had the wheels angled the wrong way.  As you can guess, I practiced and practiced parking on hills.  When I retook the test, that officer didn’t even ask me to parallel park!  So I passed. 

For comparison, this is what my daughter drove for her driving test: 

A Toyota Tercel coupe.  Yes, in that marvelous color!  She was one of the lucky ones and had drivers ed through her school.  They didn't stop for soda that I know of.  She passed the test first try.