The 1941 Philco sits behind my desk, waiting. Ancient buttons baked in the sun, long-ago-woven cloth speaker settled behind solid wooden pillars formed by a proud artisan likely at rest now, electronic works strung together with wire and glass and vacuum.
Turn on the power and wait while the electricity warms the works, and hear the sound of 20 miles away. Flip a switch and travel many more thousands of miles. The world packed in a box, 75 years since it hummed daily but still waiting to serve.
Not called into service as much as when its world was new and fresh, perhaps not as efficient as newfangled devices made of plastic and silicon, but it remains solid and dignified and sturdy. And able to perform its task.