One of the technological improvements of our era that may not really be an improvement is the constant notifications about your purchase. If you've ordered online, you know what's coming: a deluge of updates about the status of your order. It often goes something like this: Thank you for your purchase! Order confirmed/received Order packaged Order shipped! (Long pause, that lasts anywhere from three days to three weeks or more) Order out for delivery Order delivered As a veteran of requesting things through the mail -- I've been doing this since the method was cutting order forms from cardboard cereal boxes -- I don't need nearly that many updates. In fact, it gives me slight anxiety to get all those. And the times when I'm informed that the order has been delivered and it has not, well, is there anything equally inconsequential that's better at putting you in a foul mood for the day? I've periodically longed for the days of waiting four-to-six-to-eight
(I am vacationing this week, which usually means more time for blog posts. But all that extra time makes me feel like avoiding blog posts. Why is that? It's time for Cardboard Appreciation, but it's going to be a short one. This is the 338th in a series): I received a two-card envelope from The Collective Mind a short time ago. Both cards were Dodgers of the vintage type, both former want list material. I did own the 1961 Post Maury Wills card already but this one is unmarked, whereas the other one I received 12 years ago had some updates. At the time of receiving the "updated" card, I mentioned that I appreciated this kind of an update. Wills had an exceptional 1962 season and whoever owned this card absolutely had to get that season down in writing and where better than on the man's own card. It's all there in ballpoint pen -- games played, at-bats, hits, home runs, RBIs and batting average -- from the fabled 1962 season (nothing about his then-record 104 s