Category Archives: Trash

Stuff I done throwed away.

Goodbye, Mr. Magnavox Phillips Talking Caller ID Box

Before throwing things away I like to take a picture of them and occasionally write a blog post about them, too. Here are a few words about my old friend, Mr. Magnavox Phillips Talking Caller ID Box.

Magnavox Talking Caller ID Box

Let me tell you what telephones were like in the 1980s. When you wanted to call someone you picked up the receiver, dialed their seven-digits (ten if it was long distance), and waited for them to answer the phone. If the person you called was talking to someone else, you heard a busy signal and had to call back later. If they weren’t home, the line would ring and ring and ring until you hung up. And when your phone rang, you picked up the receiver and said “Hello?” because you did not know who had just called you.

I think I was ten years old when we got our first answering machine. It was big and clunky and used two full-sized cassette tapes (one for the outgoing message and another one to record people’s messages). A few years after that, we got Call Waiting. All of a sudden, you could be talking to someone on the phone and hear a beep, know that someone else was trying to call you, and flip over to answer the second caller. This feature, by the way, was not free. Call Waiting originally cost seven dollars a month. Shortly after that came three-way calling, which allowed you to call of your friends at the same time. That also wasn’t free.

And then, sometime in the late 1980s, Caller ID was introduced. With Caller ID, you could actually see the phone number of the person who was calling you before you answered the phone! But the thing was, nobody had a phone that could display Caller ID information. Instead, people bought (or rented!) a Caller ID box, which was wired between your wall jack and your phone and displayed people’s phone numbers when they called. And if you had an answering machine you would run a phone cable from the wall to your Caller ID box, another phone cable from the Caller ID box to your answering machine, and then a third cable from your answering machine to your phone. AT&T eventually packaged Call Waiting, Three-Way Calling, and Caller ID together for either $10 or $15 a month.

So while Caller ID was a very cool invention, it also meant that each time the phone rang you had to run at top speed to your Caller ID box and quickly look at it to see who was calling. The solution to this problem was “talking caller ID boxes” like this one. Each time someone called, this box would announce the phone number out loud, one number at a time. It read them so slowly that by the time it was done, you had one ring left to decide whether or not you were going to answer the phone.

I bought this talking Caller ID box back when I was still in high school, and I know we used it when Susan and I lived in Spokane from 1996-1998. Sometime around the year 2000, we got a cordless phone that had a Caller ID display built into the handset, which allowed me to retire this box. Around that same time I got my first cell phone, which made this box obsolete. I’m not sure why I didn’t get rid of it back then, but last weekend I ran across it out in the garage and decided it was time to say farewell.

So goodbye, Mr. Magnavox Phillips Talking Caller ID Box. You served me well for many years, protecting me from telemarketers and fast food bosses trying to get me to come in on my day off. You were worth every penny, and I salute you. May you find a good home, or at least a dignified end, at Goodwill.

I Just Threw Away A 22-Year-Old Shirt

Out in my garage sit two 30-gallon plastic tubs labeled “t-shirts”. Between the two of them, the tubs contain roughly 100 shirts. Half of the shirts are ones I bought at concerts back in the late 80s and early 90s. The other half are shirts that for whatever reason I have some sort of sentimental attachment to. Some of them remind me of where or when I bought them and others remind me of things I was doing when I wore them, but all of them remind me of something.

Also, none of them fit. None of them will ever fit. Some of them never fit in the first place.

My senior year of high school, I somehow ended up in student council. I couldn’t tell you back then how my mullet-wearing, Firebird-driving, metal-loving, acne-ridden face got elected into student council any more than I can explain it now, but it happened. Everyone who was elected received one of these sweatshirts. The largest size they came in was XL. Even back then I wore a 2XL (especially in a tight-fitting sweatshirt that shrank the first time you washed it). I was uncomfortable every single time I put it on. When I was forced to wear it for school events I would frequently sneak away to a bathroom stall and spend a few minutes with my knee shoved up inside the sweatshirt in an attempt to stretch it out to the point where it would hide, rather than accentuate, my stupid roly-poly-shaped torso. It never worked. Eventually I told everyone I lost it and I quit wearing it. Seeing this shirt brings back a lot of memories, some good and some bad.

That being said, I cannot come up with a logical reason as to why I still own this shirt. It no longer serves its original purpose — that is, of being clothing. I can’t wear it. I couldn’t wear it when I was 18. I could diet for the next 5 years and still not be able to wear it. If by some miracle I were able to wear it, I wouldn’t. Why would I wear a student council sweatshirt from 1991?

Yesterday, I threw it away. I could have donated it, but I didn’t. I donate lots of clothing. I didn’t want to donate this one. I just wanted it gone, and now it is.

Here’s another one that found its way to the trash bin yesterday. This shirt is another case of hanging on to clothing for sentimental reasons. Back when I started working at Best Buy (1994), employees were given a single shirt with the option of buying more. Since I often worked several days in a row and didn’t feel like doing laundry every single day, I bought a couple of extra shirts. When you quit you were expected to turn your original shirt back in, but the additional ones you bought were yours to keep. This was one of those.

Like the sweatshirt, I can’t imagine wearing this shirt out in public even if it still fit, which it does not. I hung on to it because it reminds me of some fun times. I had a great time working for Best Buy and I met a lot of people there that I am still in contact with today. But I don’t need this shirt wadded up in a plastic bin out in my garage to remind me of that. Into the trash it went. In about 30 minutes yesterday I went from two fully stuffed bins to one that’s only 2/3 full.

Some of the shirts evoke stronger memories than others. I seem to have a strong connection with the concert ones. One of the shirts out there is a t-shirt with a can of Spam on the front. I wore that one to my late night wedding reception back in 1995, which is why it’s still out there. Slowly I’m coming to the realization that getting rid of a shirt (or a plaque, or a toy, or a book) doesn’t mean you are getting rid of the memories attached to it. Sometimes a shirt is just a shirt, and a shirt that doesn’t fit anymore is just trash.

Sixteen Hats

I don’t remember how or why I started collecting baseball caps. I don’t really “collect” hats in the sense that I display them or keep them in mint condition or anything like that … I just tend to buy, own and wear a lot of different hats. And since one of my 2011 resolutions is to thin out my possessions, I thought eliminating a few hats over the weekend might be an easy place to start. In just five minutes, I identified sixteen hats I no longer wear:

For one reason or another, these are the ones I don’t wear anymore. Some of them are dated, some of them are cheesy, and some of them simply no longer fit my head. Some of them never did, in fact. I don’t know what it is about Hard Rock Cafe hats, but their “One Size Fits All” does not apply to my noggin.

Lest anyone worry about my head getting cold this winter, these are the hats that made the “keep” list:

So that I can remember which ones I’ve parted with, I took pictures of each hat and added them to my Trash photo album. Everything I throw away gets documented, mostly so I don’t drive myself crazy looking for it later on down the road.

More Trash

Couldn’t sleep last night (again) so I made up a new game called “throw 50 things away”. Then I couldn’t find anything I wanted to get rid of so I threw 50 of Susan’s things away. Just kidding. Added one new category to the trash pile (Toys I’ve Thrown Away) and added a dozen or so pictures to the Misc Category, mostly of old wigs and puppet.

Sorry Bert, your time had come.

(Yes, as a kid I peeled off Bert’s hair and eyebrows.)