What a difference a century makes

Disclaimer: I found the material for this post on the internet.  It is not my original work.  If you know the original author, please let me know so I may credit them.  Thank you.

The year is 1906.  One hundred and two (almost three) years ago.

What a difference a century makes.

Here are some US statistics for the Year 1906:

The average life expectancy was 47 years.

Only 14 percent of the homes had a bathtub.

Only 8 percent of the homes had a telephone.

There were only 8,000 cars and only 144 miles of paved roads.

The maximum speed limit in most cities was 10 mph.

The tallest structure in the world was the Eiffel Tower.

The average wage in was 22 cents per hour.

The average worker made between $200 and $400 per year.

A competent accountant could expect to earn $2000 per year, a dentist $2,500 per year, a veterinarian between $1,500 and $4,000 per year, and a mechanical engineer about $5,000 per year.

More than 95 percent of all births took place at home. The AMA had yet to take over medicine and create the medical industry in order to create political and economic power for themselves.  Midwifery was still legal and accepted.

Ninety percent of all doctors had NO college education.   Instead, they attended “medical schools,” many of which were condemned in the press and by the government as “substandard.”

Sugar cost four cents a pound.

Eggs were fourteen cents a dozen.

Coffee was fifteen cents a pound.

Most women only washed their hair once a month, and used borax or egg yolks for shampoo.

Canada passed a law that prohibited poor people from entering into their country for any reason.

Five leading causes of death were:

1. Pneumonia and influenza
2. Tuberculosis
3. Diarrhea
4. Heart disease
5. Stroke

The American flag had 45 stars.

The population of Las Vegas, Nevada was only 30.

Crossword puzzles, canned beer, and ice tea hadn’t been invented yet.

There was no Mother’s Day or Father’s Day.

Two out of every 10 adults couldn’t read or write.   Only 6 percent of all Americans had graduated from high school yet they had an 80 percent literacy rate.

Marijuana, heroin, and morphine were all available over the counter at the local corner drugstores. Back then pharmacists said, “Heroin clears the complexion, gives buoyancy to the mind, regulates the stomach and bowels, and is, in fact, a perfect guardian of health.”

Eighteen percent of households had at least one full-time servant or domestic help.

There were about 230 reported murders in the entire US.

Try to imagine what it may be like in another 100 years.

Landscape of Grief

Because life isn’t always just about politics.  I wrote this some time ago for a fellow poster at a political message board after she reported the loss of her father.  The responses to her post were so similar to each other and to my own experience of my dad’s death that I wrote this out for her.  It was well received and I’ve decided I need to include it here because, there is more to our lives than just fighting politics.

From the moment of your father’s death, time will seem suspended in amber only to pass in an instant. And you will grieve.

At first there is a gathering of family and friends. Jokes and stories abound. Maybe even some morbid humor as you get through the living that constitutes dying. Bittersweet memories of a loved one now gone.

The pain is so intense you won’t feel it anymore. Days seem like minutes which take months to pass.

The family gathered will dispurse to their everyday lives and you will return to yours. Not gradually as you might like; but SMACK into the mundane every day which is your life. And you will grieve. And you will cope. And the weeks pass.

The pain is so intense; it’s a knife in your gut; you can’t breath, but you must. So you gasp.

Every morning you awake to the feeling of loss. Then you remember and you gasp.

Every thought, every feeling returns to your dad. As you work. As you drive. As you write checks for bills. A constant sharp pain where your dad once lived is ever present.

You hear a funny story and you reach for the phone. But he’s not there to hear it and you gasp. Tears become a constant companion and threat. Ours is not a world which honors the grieving. So you swallow your tears and move on.

You need your best advisor for a major decision. “I’ll have to check with my dad” almost escapes your lips as you swallow and tell the person in front of you, “I’ll have to get back to you on that.” You feel numb.

You can’t remember his face. And you cry for what you’ve lost. Pouring over old family photos you vow to etch his face in your mind. But you don’t. You can’t remember his face. You feel fear. Then shame. Then numb.

One morning you awaken and finish your coffee before the feeling of loss returns. You feel guilt you forgot. The pain stabs you in the gut and you gasp.

One day you hear a funny story and think “my dad would have loved that” and you smile through the tears. And you cry as you laugh.

The next morning you awake to a pain so intense you can’t breath. You remember and you cry.

Months down the road as you face another decision, you think, “I wonder what my dad would have done?” You smile with a bittersweet memory of your dad’s words ringing through your head. And you breathe.

Days later you awake and remember you dreamt of your dad. And you smile.

One day as you’re driving down the road, the pain hits so hard you have to pull over and scream and cry and rage at the world. Then you breathe.

Weeks later as you’re working in your garden, unbidden your father’s face comes to you. You gasp. Then you smile. Then you cry.

The next morning you awake to your father’s face in your mind. And you smile. Then you breathe. Then you smile and you go on.