Rotary Phones, Gus Triandos and the 'Turn of the Century'

Heartfelt thanks to all those who sent me birthday greetings over the weekend. Among the well-wishers was Robert Miller. He and I go back to high school days at City College, though he was in one of the smart classes, thus eliminating any actual classroom time together.

But we both worked on the school paper, The Collegian. Bob’s done all right for himself since graduation. Married the former Marcy Liebowitz (Milford Mill High, class of ’64), had a platoon of kids and grandkids.

Around the time I was getting my bachelor’s degree from the University of Maryland, he was getting his B.A. from the University of Chicago and his Ph.D. in history from Princeton.

He got a law degree from George Washington University and spent much of his career with the federal government. Among his last postings, he was deputy director of the U.S. Critical Infrastructure Assurance Office and a professor at the National Defense University.

But with the wry sense of humor I’ve known and occasionally appreciated since our school days – more on that later – he compiled a list over the weekend that ties in to my recent 79th birthday and his own, which arrives in four weeks.

It’s a list, called “You Know You’re Old When …” It’s mostly his list, with a few additions of my own. You’ll know which lines are Bob’s. They’re the better ones.

And so: “You Know You’re Old When …”

You remember Gus Triandos’ number, but not Gunnar Henderson’s.
Your favorite TV show is Turner Classic Movies.
You remember the first time you had sex, but not the last time.
When you hear someone refer to “the turn of the century,” you think 1900.
You hear a Baltimore Federal Savings & Loan commercial from 60 years ago, with the commercial jingle, “… at the colonial corner where/Fayette Street and St. Paul meet,” but you can’t remember the corner where you parked your car 10 minutes ago.
You still keep your VCR collection.
You still call middle school “junior high” and have lingering burns on your inner thighs from trying climb rope in gym class.
You still remember telephone prefixes such as Mohawk, Forest, Plaza, Peabody and Belmont, and think of those names as old friends.
You remember the U.S. Supreme Court outlawing prayer in schools, and you had to ask your teacher, “Even before exams?”
You still carry cash and do your clothes shopping at actual stores.
You still think the sticky buns in the school cafeteria were nature’s only perfect food.
You watch the campus riots on TV and automatically think “1968.”
You miss reading the obituaries in the daily newspaper.
You miss the daily newspaper.
You hear “Belmont 5-0600” and automatically think of Hampden Rug Cleaners’ commercials from decades ago but can’t remember your own phone number.
When you watch old movies with your grandchildren, you’re stuck trying to explain phone booths, dial tones and operators to them.
Your house is not a home. It’s a storage unit.
You can’t figure out all the buttons on your new car.
The parking lot attendants at the medical center know your name.
You have a simple diet. If you like it, you can’t have it, and if you can have it, you don’t like it.

I mentioned that “wry sense of humor” of Bob’s. Back in our days on City College’s Collegian newspaper, I covered sports and Bob was the paper’s managing editor.

Every week, I’d nervously turn in my copy to Bob, and he’d read it over and look for something nice to say, to boost my confidence. Every week, he’d say, “It’s very well typed.”

That was his highest compliment.

Have I told this story before?

There you go: You know you’re old when you’re repeating your favorite old stories.

Got any examples of your own?

A former Baltimore Sun columnist and WJZ-TV commentator, Michael Olesker is the author of six books, including “Journeys to the Heart of Baltimore” (Johns Hopkins University Press) and “Michael Olesker’s Baltimore: If You Live Here, You’re Home” (Johns Hopkins University Press).