I was shocked to discover that these “about town” columns still existed as recently as the 1970’s. You know, a list of happenings like “The ingrams on Fir Street celebrated Bill’s promotion, The Smiths were over for drinks and sandwiches”
Or: Old Charlie Fisher was visiting the Corklind family at their home on Bluff Drive when he shit his pants. Fortunately Charlie was a plumber in the Army and wore the same size underwear.
I prefer our relatively anonymous suburban days and nights of quiet desperation.