This fall has been splendid. Yesterday was in the 60’s and today is in the high 50’s. Gracie and I get to go to the dump later. I haven’t told her yet. She just gets too excited. Right now she is looking out the front door hoping, I think, for something to see. I’m sorry to say she’s out of luck. My street is always quiet.

I wonder what encyclopedia salesmen do now, the same with TV repairmen who used to come with a toolbox and a box of tubes. My father was a pinsetter at the local bowling alley when he was in high school. My mother used to get blocks of ice delivered to her house. When I was little, I had to tell the operator the number I wanted. I remember our number started with ST for Stoneham. My father never got just gas but also got his windshield and back window washed, and if he wanted, they’d check his oil. Kids had newspaper routes. Adults in cars deliver now. Shorthand has gone the way of Latin, a dead language. I don’t remember the last time I saw an elevator operator. The guy at the corner who used to sell papers is gone. Now you put your money in a box and take out a paper. When I plan a trip, I hunt through the internet for the best price. The travel agent used to do that for me.

The loss of people to people occupations have made us all far less connected. We are becoming more and more insular though I still smile at people and some smile back. The rest are probably wondering what I want by that smile. The world is becoming a colder place.