Specialization is for Insects, Little Critter.

"A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects." -Robert Heinlein

That quote has been my mantra for years. Put bluntly, "Everyone should know a little of everything." But it extends far beyond the boundaries of that simple phrase. "Expand your worldview." sounds more inviting. The main thing, though, is that specialization, in any arena, blinds us to the myraid possibilities just beyond our expertise. From the loftiest politicians and judges to the lowliest garbage collectors and movie directors, everyone can benefit from expanding their experience. Travel broadens the mind, and what not, cheerio good fellow.

But there are hundreds of things, every day, that make me wonder, about all kinds of things, and how they work, And while I can't say I think of nothing else, specialization does cross my mind more frequently than most.

A recent example came while reading to my kids. They love the Little Critter books by Mercer Mayer. And so do I. Well written with cute illustrations. But the interesting thing to me is the amount of anachronistic detail contained in those slim volumes.



I'm calling daddy...vroom, vroom...



So, a few years ago, when my daughter asked "Daddy, what's that?" pointing at a spiral phone cord, it gave me pause. And I thought: To the best of my knowledge, she's never been in the same room as a phone with a spiral phone cord. Something so seemingly trivial, yet pervasive through my young life, that it never occured to me that a whole new generation of kids are going to grow up not knowing about phone cords and rotary dial telephones, or card catalogs, or typewriters and typewriter ribbons.



I remember hours spent watching mom cooking, while dancing and spinning around in the phone cord, twisting it tighter and tighter until it resembled a bunch of grapes, or a noose, more than a communication apparatus. Of course, we had to have the twenty foot long phone cord, so it would reach anywhere on the main floor of our house. Sorry kids, no cordless phones at the time. My last fond farewell to the elegant phone cord came when I was a teenager in love, talking for hours and hours on my old, crappy phone that still had the cord, twisting it as we talked.

There are things being outdated, upgraded, and lost at a mind boggling pace. And while it's not earth shattering, or even necessary, there are times when these technological curiousities will show up, when you least expect them, and before long, no one will remember why they existed at all. So, here we are.

Reading the same book to my son, not so long ago, he was confused by the row of stores, and Little Critter wanting to go to the candy store on the corner. To him, candy comes from Walgreenmart, where you go to get everything you need.



Now, it's a Starbucks...



The change came slowly in my hometown, but even at the time, I could feel it coming on. I remember going to a hardware store for tools and cookware, a small bakery that made the best sugar cookies in the world, the wacky bookstore/videostore, and even a store that sold nothing but clothes. Then the mall came, and a few places fell. Then the boxes came, and decimated the rest.

And that brings me back to specialization. Specifically, if businesses were subject to the same rules when it comes to specialization or generalization. Because, when I was thinking about phone cords, I was reminded of The Telephone Company. Just one. Back before the government broke up AT&T and if you wanted phone service, you leased a phone from them like a cable box. And that seemed like an extreme case of specialization. While there are surely the downsides of fettered progress and lack of competition that monopoly brings, it beats hell out of researching hundreds of phones before making a selection and having it arrive, already outdated and overpriced. So, specialization might be an ok thing. Would it really be so bad if everyone could only pick an iPhone? If there were reasonable plans and a few different models?

So, how does this jive with my general dislike of big box stores? Dislike, but frequent shopper. It's hard to argue with being able to get hubcaps at the same store you shop for cottage cheese. I can't imagine ever having enough time to truly enjoy shopping, strolling slowly down the block, stopping at the butcher's, the baker's, and the candlestick maker's, chit chatting with passers by.

It pains me to know that those places are mostly gone. The places where people cared enough about what they did to try to make a living at it. But while super shopping is a generalization I don't welcome with open arms, it's one that's hard to do without. And that makes me sick sometimes.