This is still standard on real estate conveyance documents, and has nothing to do with gender stereotypes. Rather, it reflects homestead laws and inheritance; typically, a person who is married inherits the interest of their spouse in jointly owned real estate when that spouse dies - it is an automatic process when they hold the property as husband and wife; no additional transaction is needed (except, for notice purposes, recording the death certificate). Similarly, if a spouse has a potential interest in a property (by virtue of their marital interest), the property can’t be sold or mortgaged unless they join. So, references to marital status are explaining whether another person (the spouse) has an interest that needs to be released if the property is being conveyed.
Where this is different, of course, is in the fact that you can now find deeds/mortgages that list two men (or two women) as a married couple. That was not legal in the 70s/80s, and so the workaround was to take title as two unmarried people with rights of survivorship, a legal mechanism that also provides for automatic inheritance of the other’s interests when they die.
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My contribution:
When I started college in the late 90s, we had an automated telephone service which we used to pick classes, kind of like movie phone (“You’ve asked to add class BSK101, Underwater Basket Weaving. Please 1 if this is correct, press 2 if not”). We were assured that this was way better than the old system, which required a person to physically get in line to pick classes (I was never sure how this worked. Did each class have a line you could get in, or was there one line for 20,000 underclassmen?).
I’ve done both the telephone service and the physical signup and yes, at Cornell at least, there was a line for each class, which had a separate list for each schedule of that class, and you could only pick from the available ones remaining.
Yup, that’s how registration-by-paper-form worked at the University of Wisconsin-Madison in the 1980s, as well. And, the registration lines were in different buildings for different departments, which led to mad dashes back and forth across campus to get different classes.
Wisconsin finally went to the telephone registration when I was in graduate school there in the late '80s, and, yes, comparatively, it was much, MUCH simpler.
Yes, many cars companies are doing this and it’s a terrible idea. Don’t get a blowout while on a roadtrip at night or on a holiday. A minor issue like a tire change turns into waiting for a tow truck, hoping the dealer or tire shop actually has your tire in stock and is open tomorrow, and a hotel bill.
I was at UCLA 1968 (starting in high school) through 1973, and they went to computerized registration in 1970 or 71. You filled in punch cards and sent them back in. There were glitches in the first quarter, and I remember being in line for hours to make changes/corrections. The good thing was that there was only one line for all classes (because the data was online).
Dunno, but from (appalling) testimony I’ve seen about abuse scandals involving behavior stretching back a few decades, it appears that casual acceptance of childhood nudity was often exploited by abusers. If a trusted authority figure routinely saw kids naked in locker rooms and such, being in the same room as a naked child had more plausible deniability. I’m not suggesting that abusers openly went after kids right in the midst of communal-nudity situations, though.
I’m also not saying that kids ought to be ashamed or uptight about nudity, which is not in itself a bad or dirty thing. But increased social prudery about nudery in recent years has probably had the beneficial side effect of helping protect kids somewhat from abusers.
I’ll add this to the communal shower discussion: I loathed it. At my high school, we girls lined up nekkid and trudged single-file through a narrow, semi-circular room lined with showers. Get wet as you went through first segment of showers, hit the soap dispenser and lather as you moved through the second segment, rinse by moving through the last segment, exit. A PE teacher stood at the exit and bellowed at us to keep moving. We felt like cattle. In middle school, we’d had individual stalls. MUCH better!
As a teacher, I missed the shower requirement for kids. PE was a required class for frosh, and they’d come to my room pretty stinky. The next class always complained about the eau de BO (with subtle notes of deodorant). I went through a LOT of air freshener. PE teachers said allowing time for showers cut their classes too short.
I got a flat in the freeway last night in my 2017 Civic and I freaked out because I remembered this post. But it turned out that there was a non full sized spare in the trunk. What year is your Civic?
In my 40-odd years on this Earth, I have never experienced a period where people didn’t consider your food choices to be their business.
If you were the least bit fat, the least bit skinny, made a special order (be it for allergies, intolerance, or just taste preferences) in a restaurant, went with something vegetarian when there was a meat option, had something unusual…
(Actually making those comments to your face in the case of the weight-related ones seem to have slacked off quite a bit.)
And that goes double for the drink choices. Most people nowadays won’t actually coax a recovering alcoholic at a cocktail party to have “just a small one” even though he’s said he’s abstaining. Not to mention the tendency of male guests to insist upon young female guests’ alcohol consumption with a degree of persistence that you could probably get arrested for nowadays.
I can still hear in my head the odd cadence of the robot’s closing message on the phone class registration (UC Berkeley, ‘92-‘95): “Thank you for calling teleBEARS!”
Maybe recovering alcoholics, but if you merely say “no thanks”, there’s still bound to be people insisting and/or people poking their nose where it doesn’t belong, whether we’re talking about alcohol or any other kind of food-related item. Why should the recovering alcoholic need to tell anybody who doesn’t already know, anyway?
A few weeks ago I went to a bar/restaurant where a guy I used to know was playing guitar and singing. After his final set he came over to our table to chat. I told the waitress I wanted to buy him a drink; he chuckled and said, “oh, you don’t know, I’m an alcoholic”. I replied, “oh, ok then, I’ll buy you two but after that you’re on your own”.
I was at a con panel with Mark Sheppard when someone from the audience ran up to the foot of the stage and left 2 beers there, presumably for Mark and the guy interviewing him. Mark thanked him, but explained, “I’m allergic to alcohol. I break out in handcuffs.” That got a big laugh, but he did later explain that he was sober and had been for years.
As a recovering alcoholic, the best line I ever got on that subject is from Lora Brody’s Entertainment Survival Guide: For any number of reasons, a guest may refuse your offer of a drink of alcohol. The reason doesn’t have to be explained to anyone, including you.
I just say “No.” If anyone asks, I say “I just said ‘no.’ I don’t have to explain it to anyone. Including you.”
I remember a time when you could interact with children in public and not be considered a potential pervert. And people could give their child a good, well deserved whack in public and not have people call the cops.
Drinking water! I don’t ever remember drinking water as a kid. I drank Kool-Aid, milk and, if I was really lucky, some Shasta or Gold Medal pop. The only water I remember drinking was warm hose water in the summer. And that was only because it was a novel thing to do. Now, people are hauling gallons of water all day long, everywhere they go.
When I was born (1961) the newspaper listed all of the area births. These weren’t like birth announcements, they were more like a public record thing. My mom saved mine. It states my dad’s name, my DOB and “girl”. The mothers’ names were never mentioned!
I’ve noticed that in newspaper stories from the beginning of time up until maybe the 80s (?), women were always identified by their husbands’ names such as Mrs. Harold Smith. Like they didn’t even have a first name!
I had a cookbook of the best recipes from the Women’s Group of some man’s club. Until 1976, all the “chairmen” of the women’s club were listed as “Mrs. John Smith.” Staring in 1977, the “chairwomen” of the club were listed as “Mrs. Mary Smith.”
Like you said, the men suddenly realized that wives do have their own first names.