forwards and backwards

It has been at least 21 years since my elementary school class buried a time capsule. I'm beginning to think Mrs. Spengler had no intention of leaving instructions for its retrieval. How many years did we say anyway, 10, 25, 50? This country's playgrounds must just be mine fields of abandoned time capsules. Another story adults tell children, and like most of those stories, told with perfectly good intentions. I'm sure there is that one district where someone's dad keeps track, and he shows up on the appointed day, shovel ready. But I know that watching the clock wasn't and isn't really the point. Mrs. Spengler, you did a good job.

I started thinking about Lincoln Elementary while I was digging around my own basement a few days ago. Like I said I've been contemplating the mail in offer lately, its heyday and decline. I came across this crash cover, another mail related obsession of mine. I guess I had forgotten all about it, but here it is, at the right time, rising to the surface. The cover itself was at least familiar, but I had completely forgotten about the rush coupon inside. I haven't been able to figure out what Coast Industries was, Los Angeles, 1950, anybody?

What a sad little novella this poor water stained envelope is. Mr. and Mrs. Prince, what happened to you? Mr. Prince were you dreaming of California, 52 and alone? I'm sure I don't even have to mention that I think Mrs. Prince might have felt there was some bitter irony to her married name. Is that the sad story, the modern one, or do you prefer the traditional one, the one where she died young, and so soon after the war. Either way, she's long gone and without even a name. And then the fire in Cadiz? Oh no.

No prior hypnotic training needed! I feel like I'm always burying things and digging them back up again. Refolding, resmoothing, reordering, putting away. Sometimes it feels like exciting and wonderful discovery, I remeet little perfect object being its delightful self, containing its weird old story. Sometimes I just wish I could keep everything out all the time, or at least not forget so much all the time.

size and shade

I've always liked the mail in offer. I read a lot of my dad's old comic books from the sixties when I was a kid in the eighties, and I remember thinking about sending in for the special offers, you know, the body building booklets, magic tricks, correspondence art classes, just to see what would happen. I liked the idea of someone still being at the other end after all of those years. (I still like the idea of surprising things coming in the mail, but now, sadly, all mail is starting to seem anachronistic.) But I do wonder how many people took advantage of this one. The incredible hulk and body building seem like a natural fit, the invisible girl and magic tricks, I can see it. Thumb tacks and panty hose? Not exactly an obvious case of marketing symbiosis if you ask me. Still, I love the packaging, primary colors and sans serif, early to mid 80's I'm thinking? There is a bar code, and we all know the first standard bar code was scanned in Troy, Ohio on June 26th, 1974, but that they didn't really catch on until the early 80's.

Both companies, The American Tack and Hardware Co. and the Hosiery Corporation of America still exist, kind of, kind of like zombies. Both were bought out by private equity firms in the mid nineties. Hosiery Corporation of America became Hosiery Corporation International and went through chapter 11 in 2002, after being sued twice by the Federal Trade Commission for deceptive business practices, long story, but truly fascinating, no joke. It involves missing wills, a fatal bee sting (or was it?) and a litigious adoptive mother. Anyhow, I don't think either still make things in America. The remnants of American hosiery manufacturing still exist, mostly in North Carolina, but I think that might be a story for another day.