If you’ve been to a traditional (or somewhat traditional) Christian wedding recently, you may have noticed that the bride generally stands on the left and the groom on the right during the ceremony. If somewhere between the vows and the bouquet toss you found yourself wondering about the “why” behind that arrangement, you’re not alone. So how did this tradition emerge?
A quick scan of the internet will show you that most explanations for this custom center on the idea of “marriage by capture.” The idea is that in centuries past, men would abduct women to be their brides, either in secret or by slaying the woman’s family. This is said to affect the standing positions during the matrimonial ceremony because grooms needed to keep their sword hand — their dominant hand — free in case anyone came to try to take the bride back. Because most men are right-handed, standing on the right meant that the left hand could be free for wedding duties while the right hand would be ready to pull out a sword if there was trouble.
As swashbuckling and dramatic as that may sound, there’s little evidence to support this theory, and also little evidence that marriage by capture was ever a common occurrence in Europe. Marriage by capture probably did happen on occasion — it’s mentioned in Greek mythology, the Bible, and ancient Hindu legal texts. But if it seems like an unworkable way to conduct society at large, that’s because it is.
The idea of marriage by capture was notably championed by Scottish lawyer and ethnologist John Ferguson McLennan in his 1865 book Primitive Marriage. However, more recent historians and anthropologists have noted that McLennan made no distinction between the ritualized mock battles that take place in a number of cultures before marriage and actual abduction.
Other explanations highlight the sword hand idea but don’t directly tie it to the capture theory. Instead, the groom having his sword hand free was meant to be a general boon to the bride’s protection, in case of impending duels from jilted lovers and the like. But this too lacks evidence. In fact, the sword hand theory seems to have emerged as part of a 19th-century fascination for explaining customs (wedding and otherwise) with reference to a rough, barbaric past, even when actual evidence is thin.
So why does the bride usually stand on the left in Christian weddings? Like many traditions, it probably arose for a bunch of different reasons, rather than one clear one. Wedding customs vary a lot by religion and region, and the standing arrangement isn’t consistent.
In some regions and eras the bride stood on the right instead. (That’s the case in today’s Jewish weddings.) The practice of standing on the left likely arose in Christian Europe thanks to some combination of liturgical symbolism (the right side is associated with honor and authority in Christian tradition) and the practicalities of ritual (the groom sometimes needed to use his right hand to receive the bride from her father or place the ring).
By the 19th century, Western wedding positioning — and many other customs — had become standardized in etiquette manuals. By that time, the original reasons for the custom were unclear.
Today, however, etiquette experts say the people getting married should feel free to stand on whichever side they like. Factors to consider include whether the sun might get in your eyes, showing off your good side, and facing your side of the family (if seating arrangements are split down the aisle). Thankfully, you probably won’t have to worry about which hand can more easily grab your sword.
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4 Secrets of the CIA
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AuthorTony Dunnell
April 23, 2026
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The Central Intelligence Agency has its fingers in many pies, from counterterrorism to offensive cyber operations and covert paramilitary actions. The mere mention of the CIA brings with it a certain mystique, conjuring up images of secret agents, globe-trotting spies, and clandestine activities. It’s no surprise, then, that the agency has featured heavily in numerous Hollywood movies, from Spy Game and Zero Dark Thirty to The Bourne Identity and Bridge of Spies.
The CIA was formed in 1947 by President Harry Truman, partly as a replacement for the Office of Strategic Services (OSS), which was disbanded after World War II. As a civilian intelligence service and part of the U.S. Intelligence Community, it is officially tasked with gathering, processing, and analyzing national security information from around the world. Unlike the FBI, the CIA has no law enforcement function — it’s also not allowed to collect information regarding “U.S. Persons,” although the agency’s actions have often proven controversial in that regard.
Unsurprisingly, the CIA has kept — and uncovered — many secrets over the decades. Here are some of the most fascinating secrets from the agency’s history, from innovative spy techniques to daring covert missions.
The CIA created a range of secret gadgets that could have been straight out of a James Bond movie. The extensive list of low- and high-tech trickery includes hollow silver dollars for holding messages or film; miniature compasses hidden in cufflinks; pigeon-mounted mini cameras; a listening device designed to look like tiger excrement; and a robot fish called Charlie that secretly collected water samples. Perhaps most impressive of all was the “insectothopter,” a tiny robotic dragonfly that could eavesdrop on otherwise inaudible conversations.
In 1962, the CIA launched a mission — code-named Project COLDFEET — to investigate an abandoned Soviet research station on a floating ice island in the Arctic. Getting there was easy enough: Two Navy pilots secretly parachuted down onto the ice and began their search for information. The tricky part was how to recover the pilots and the information they had retrieved, as it was impossible to land an aircraft on the ice. So, the CIA decided to use its new Fulton surface-to-air recovery system, colloquially known as the Skyhook. The agents on the ground deployed a helium balloon that lifted a 500-foot line into the air. A slow-moving B-17 plane, with the Skyhook device attached to its nose, then flew overhead and snagged the line with the agents attached to the end of it, sweeping them into the air, at which point they were winched aboard the aircraft. Sound familiar? You might have seen the Skyhook used later by James Bond in 1965’s Thunderball and Batman in 2008’s The Dark Knight.
Anthropologists and Archaeologists Made Great Spies
In Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the CrystalSkull (2008), Indy reveals that he once worked for the OSS, the predecessor of the CIA. This is a believable part of the character’s backstory, as the OSS and other intelligence agencies often recruited archaeologists like Indy during World War I and World War II. The same is true for the CIA, which has routinely enlisted archaeologists, anthropologists, art historians, and other academics for intelligence-gathering purposes. It makes sense, as these professionals already have the perfect reason to be conducting fieldwork in foreign countries — and they tend to be somewhat more discreet than Indiana Jones.
Animals have been used in espionage since the days of the ancient Egyptians and ancient Greeks, who used homing pigeons and dogs to deliver secret messages (the latter carrying missives in their collars). The CIA took things to a whole new level, however, with highly trained nonhumans undertaking a range of complex tasks. In a secret 1960s project known as Project OXYGAS, dolphins were trained to attach explosive devices to enemy ships. Birds have proved useful, too. Camera-carrying pigeons could take higher-quality photos than spy satellites operating at the time, while ravens were trained to deliver and retrieve small objects of up to 1.4 ounces from otherwise inaccessible buildings. The CIA also spent $20 million trying to train cats to eavesdrop while fitted with recording devices. Known as Operation Acoustic Kitty (seriously), the project was eventually abandoned after a feline operative was tasked with listening in on the conversation between two men sitting in a park. The cat, totally uninterested in any previous training, wandered off and was hit by a passing car.
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7 Myths About the American Revolution
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AuthorFran Hoepfner
April 23, 2026
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The American Revolution was one of the most significant conflicts of the 18th century. It not only led to the 13 original colonies gaining independence from Great Britain, but also helped establish democracy and representation as a path for governments around the world. Today, schools teach the famous events and figures from this chapter of American history year after year, from the rebellious Boston Tea Party to Paul Revere’s “midnight ride” to the “shot heard round the world” during the Revolutionary War. But the storied details of the nation’s founding aren’t always completely accurate, and there are plenty of myths that persist to this day.
Myth: The American Colonies Went to War Solely Over Taxes
The phrase “taxation without representation” is a popular and easy-to-remember slogan of the American Revolution, based on the argument laid out in Patrick Henry’s Virginia Resolves in 1765. Henry wrote a series of resolutions that were passed in Virginia’s House of Burgesses in response to the Stamp Act, which levied additional taxes on the British colonies in America. Though taxes were a major point of contention between the colonists and the British crown, they were not the sole reason for the conflict. Mounting tensions between American colonists and the British were also caused by disputes over land distribution — the British planned to reserve the western part of North America for Indigenous peoples, angering colonists with plans to expand outward.
Myth: Paul Revere Was the Only Rider Who Warned About the British
Paul Revere’s “midnight ride” was immortalized by painter Grant Wood’s 1931 depiction of the event, “The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere,” which was inspired by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s 1860 poem “Paul Revere’s Ride.” While Revere did ride out the evening of April 18, 1775, to warn Sons of Liberty leaders Samuel Adams and John Hancock of the arrival of British troops, he wasn’t alone. Patriots William Dawes and Samuel Prescott also rode on different routes through the greater Boston area. All three riders were stopped by the British, but managed to escape and complete their task, warning the rebels that an attack was coming.
Myth: The Phrase “Don’t Fire Until You See the Whites of Their Eyes” Was Coined During the Revolution
The phrase “don’t shoot until you see the whites of their eyes” is used as shorthand today, meant as a warning against reacting too quickly. The idiom is typically credited to Colonel Israel Putnam at the Battle of Bunker Hill. But there’s no concrete evidence that Putnam uttered the phrase, or that it was first said during that particular battle, or even during the Revolutionary War. In fact, some historians have traced the phrase back to the Seven Years’ War a decade earlier, or even to Prussian soldiers during various battles in the 18th century. It’s likely this was a phrase already known to soldiers before the American Revolution.
Myth: The Declaration of Independence Was Signed on July 4
Every year, Americans celebrate Independence Day on the Fourth of July, and it’s commonly believed that July 4, 1776, marks the date the Declaration of Independence was signed. In reality, the Continental Congress voted to declare independence on July 2, and the Declaration of Independence was formally adopted two days later on July 4. (John Adams even predicted that July 2 would be celebrated as a national holiday for centuries to come.) The signing of the document, meanwhile, didn’t begin for another month; John Hancock was the first founding father to sign the declaration, on August 2, 1776.
Myth: The Liberty Bell Cracked While the Declaration of Independence Was Being Read
No trip to Philadelphia is complete without a visit to the Liberty Bell, a 2,000-pound bell that hangs in Independence Hall (formerly the Pennsylvania State House). The bell was ordered from London by Pennsylvania statesman Isaac Norris in 1751, and when it arrived stateside, it cracked on the first ring. The original bell was then melted down and recast in Philadelphia, and it was this second iteration of the Liberty Bell that was rung to celebrate the first public reading of the Declaration of Independence on July 8, 1776. According to lore, the bell fractured again at this historic moment, but as far as records show, no cracks appeared that day. The infamous split in the current bell actually occurred sometime in the mid-19th century; the first record of the blemish appears in 1846.
The nation’s first President is possibly the most famous American of all time, but he was not quite the military mastermind that he’s often credited as being. Most of the military decisions during the Revolutionary War were hidden from the public, sparing people the details of the indecision that Washington often faced in times of strife. The general had never commanded a large unit before leading the Continental Army, and though his bravery was lauded, his tactician skills left something to be desired, by some accounts. In the years after the war, Thomas Paine — famous for writing the revolutionary book Common Sense — wrote that Washington “slept away [his] time in the field.” That said, Washington’s skills as a leader were unparalleled, and his willingness to step down from the presidency after two terms allowed America’s fledgling democracy to establish a system of shifting leaders.
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Myth: Americans Were United in Their Support of the War
The “spirit of ’76” — a nickname for the patriotic fervor around the revolution — was really only a spirit of around 70% to 80% of the population at the time. The rest of the colonists were either loyal to the crown or skeptical of conflict. Some of this divide occurred because of geography, as New England colonists were dragged into the conflict sooner than those in the South. Many people were concerned with the cost (human and financial) of going to war with one of the world’s most powerful empires, and some militia fighters had to be paid to enlist rather than volunteering for the cause. By the end of the revolution, however, enthusiasm for American independence was more widespread. This was due in part to a mass exodus of loyalists: By 1786, between 60,000 and 80,000 loyalists left the colonies to go back to Great Britain.
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The Rise and Fall of Drive-In Theaters
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AuthorNicole Villeneuve
April 23, 2026
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On a late spring evening in 1933, a crowd of moviegoers in New Jersey embarked on an entirely new viewing experience. They parked their cars in a lot in the town of Camden, and settled in to watch the film from their very own automobiles under the nighttime stars. It was the world’s first drive-in theater, dreamed up by a local automotive chemicals salesman named Richard Hollingshead Jr.
Hollingshead had come up with the concept not long before. The 33-year-old entrepreneur tested his idea in his own driveway, setting up a projector on the hood of his car and hanging a white sheet from the trees. On May 16, Hollingshead received a patent for his “park-in,” (the term “drive-in” caught on later) and just three weeks later, the first theater opened on June 6 with a showing of the British comedy Wives Beware.
Patrons paid 25 cents per car plus another quarter per person; a car with three or more people was charged a flat rate of $1. Hollingshead was proud to offer a different moviegoing experience, boasting, “The whole family is welcome, regardless of how noisy the children are.”
The novelty of the drive-in caught on slowly at first. But by the end of the 1940s, with World War II in the rearview, Americans and their growing families were ready to indulge in leisure and entertainment. Families didn’t have to dress up, kids could doze off in the back seat, and you could bring your own snacks — or heed the call of the animated intermission ads urging a trip to concessions for hot dogs, popcorn, and candy galore.
By the late 1950s, drive-in theaters were booming. At the trend’s peak, more than 4,000 locations dotted the country, mostly in rural and suburban areas where land was plentiful. The Johnny All-Weather Drive-In in Copiague, New York, was one of the most elaborate. When it opened in 1957, it had room for 2,500 cars, a full-service restaurant, a playground, and even a shuttle train to ferry moviegoers from their cars to the amenities. Other drive-ins, including the 99W in Oregon (opened in 1953) or the Bengies in Maryland (opened in 1956), became beloved local institutions that are still operating even today.
Drive-ins weren’t just movie theaters — they became all-out destinations. Some added mini-golf, pony rides, and swing sets right underneath the massive screens, enticing kids to play until showtime at dusk. Of course, these outdoor theaters also played a starring role in the burgeoning teenage and youth culture. For many, the drive-in was where they went on their first date, shared a first kiss, or congregated with friends, the movie sometimes secondary to the memories being made under the stars.
In the 1970s, though, business started slowing down. The oil crisis caused Americans to drive less, while the proliferation of color TV sets and VCRs brought movies into the living room. And importantly, the huge plots of land beneath the drive-in screens eventually became more valuable than the drive-in businesses themselves. A theater needed 10 to 15 acres of open space, often in growing suburbs where developers were eager to build shopping malls or more homes. The screens slowly started going dark.
Even so, the drive-in never fully disappeared. A few hundred theaters held on, many family-run and fiercely beloved. Today, fewer than 300 drive-ins remain in operation across the U.S. While that may be a fraction of the number of drive-ins at its midcentury peak, the institution nonetheless survives thanks to nostalgia, community support, and a shared memory of an earlier time.
In the 1920s, the United States experienced a period of economic prosperity and social change. The so-called Roaring ’20s were a decade of great optimism — World War I was over and the second Industrial Revolution had turned the U.S. into a global economic powerhouse. More Americans were living in cities than ever before, the majority of households had electricity, and productivity was booming.
For some, the Jazz Age was indeed a prosperous and jubilant era. But not everyone benefited from the surging economy. There was still a massive gap between rich and poor, and much of the nation’s newfound wealth ended up in the hands of the already wealthy — a third of all income was earned by just 5% of people. For many working Americans, the decade was defined by long hours, modest pay, and no safety net, with 60% of the population living just below the poverty line.
The majority of Americans earned a wage that was just enough to get by. According to the Gilder Lehrman Institute, the average annual income was $1,303 in 1924, or the equivalent of $24,870 today. (While IRS tax documentation from the same year placed the average income at $3,481 (about $66,400 today), that figure represents only people who actually filed taxes, which was required only for those earning above a certain threshold.) Let’s travel back to the 1920s and take a look at what six common jobs actually paid during these boom years.
American farmers were prosperous during World War I due to the massive demand for food exports to Europe. But in the 1920s, they suddenly found themselves among the worst off in the country. While cities boomed, agriculture was mired in a prolonged depression following the collapse of commodity prices after the war. Farm owners struggled to sell their produce, profits dropped dramatically, and many found themselves in debt — some 600,000 Americans lost their farms in 1924.
By 1928, half of all American farmers were living in poverty. These struggles are reflected in the salaries of hired farm workers, who earned about $700 a year on average in 1920 (a little less than $12,000 today), before wages fell sharply during the ensuing years, ultimately dropping to around $535 by 1929 (around $10,400 today) — not a great wage, but still almost double that of a farm laborer in the 1930s during the Great Depression.
Teacher salaries varied significantly depending on the region and whether a school or college was in a rural or urban area. But generally speaking, teachers were not paid very well in the early 20th century. It was one of the few professional occupations open to women in the 1920s, but pay was modest for both sexes. Elementary school teachers in smaller cities earned at the low end of the range, while high school teachers and those in larger urban districts could earn somewhat more. Typical annual salaries ranged from $1,000 to around $2,500 (about $16,500 to $41,000 today), but a teacher in a large, prestigious school in New York, for example, could earn $3,700 (around $60,000 today).
In the 1920s, the medical profession grew in influence and prestige as medical standards and demand increased — along with the cost of medical care. Doctors therefore sat near the top of the income hierarchy, often earning several times the national average. In 1929, the average income of all civilian physicians, including interns, residents, and fellows, was $5,304 (around $102,000 today). General practitioners in small towns earned at the lower end, while specialists and urban physicians could earn considerably more. At the highest echelons of the medical profession, a physician could earn a gross income of $9,000 per year (about $174,000 in today’s earnings) — far more than the average worker in 1920s America.
Nursing was an almost exclusively female profession in the 1920s, which meant it was systematically underpaid relative to its demands and responsibilities, due to gender discrimination. According to reports from 1927, the average salary for a public health nurse was $1,720 (around $32,000 today), while institutional nurses earned $2,079. In many cases, especially for student nurses (who would have earned well below the aforementioned salaries), the hours were incredibly long, with nurses often on duty for 20 to 24 hours straight.
Police officers were solidly working-class earners in the 1920s, with pay varying by city size. In 1924, a congressional report recommended that the salaries of police officers in Washington, D.C., should range from $1,500 to $5,200 per year (around $29,000 to $100,000 today). At the lower end were regular officers, while majors and superintendents earned the big bucks. (The report notes similar salaries for members of the fire department.) By comparison, the four officers working at the Lawrence Police Department in Kansas were paid around $1,000 a year in 1920 (about $16,000 today). The job offered more stability than farm or factory work, but it was far more dangerous, especially in larger cities.
Mining was one of the most dangerous jobs in America, but the pay didn’t reflect the risks involved. In 1925, John L. Lewis, the international president of the United Mine Workers of America, commented on an article that incorrectly claimed that anthracite (hard coal) miners earned an average of $1,936 a year. Setting the record straight, Lewis pointed out that of 45,678 men employed at anthracite mines, almost half earned less than $1,000, with many earning less than $800 (equivalent to about $15,000 a year today). For such perilous work, it was quite a meager wage.
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How Has Life Expectancy Changed Over the Centuries?
Imagine being born into a world where half the children around you never reach adulthood — and no one finds that unusual. For most of human history, that was simply life. And living into your 70s or 80s was the exception, not the norm.
Life expectancy is one of the clearest ways to understand how human life has changed — but only if we define it carefully. It does not describe the maximum age people could reach. Instead, it reflects the average number of years a newborn could expect to live based on the age-specific mortality rates of that time, a measure historians call period life expectancy.
These sometimes shocking averages help us see not just how long our ancestors could live, but also how survival itself has evolved across the centuries.
Estimating life expectancy in prehistoric societies is difficult because there are no written records, so researchers rely heavily on archaeological evidence, especially skeletal remains. Most estimates place life expectancy at birth around 20 to 30 years, driven largely by extremely high infant and child mortality. Many children died before age 5, which sharply lowered the average even when adults sometimes survived into old age.
This life expectancy average does not mean adults routinely died in their 20s. Those who survived childhood often lived into their 40s or 50s, and some lived longer, as skeletal evidence confirms. Still, reaching adulthood did not ensure a long life by today’s standards. Daily life carried constant risks because, without modern medicine, minor injuries, infections, childbirth complications, food shortages, and environmental hazards could all become fatal.
In ancient civilizations — including Mesopotamia, Egypt, Greece, Rome, China, and India — life expectancy typically ranged from about 30 to 35 years at birth. As in earlier eras, the biggest factor was high infant and child mortality, with around a quarter to half of children dying before adulthood. Infectious diseases such as malaria, tuberculosis, dysentery, and smallpox were widespread, and cities often magnified these dangers through crowding, poor sanitation, and contaminated water.
Yet surviving childhood changed the picture dramatically. In ancient Rome, for example, someone who reached adolescence often had a realistic chance of living into middle age, and some reached their 60s, 70s, and beyond. Geography also mattered, with rural populations sometimes faring slightly better than urban dwellers because lower population density reduced exposure to recurring epidemics and unsanitary conditions.
From roughly the sixth century to the 16th century, life expectancy at birth in much of medieval Europe generally remained around 30 to 35 years, though estimates varied widely by region, social class, and century. The numbers were likely comparable in parts of Asia and the Middle East, where high infant mortality, infectious disease, and periodic crises such as famine kept life expectancy at birth relatively low, though surviving demographic data for these regions is less complete than for Europe.
Across the long period of the Middle Ages, repeated crises — including wars, famines, and epidemic disease outbreaks — caused mortality to fluctuate sharply from one decade to the next. The most devastating of these was the Black Death, which killed tens of millions of people and is estimated to have reduced Europe’s population by around 30% to 50%. During such catastrophes, life expectancy could collapse temporarily. Outside crisis years, however, the broader pattern still resembled earlier centuries with very high infant mortality and a reasonable chance of reaching your 50s if the dangerous early years were survived.
By the 17th century, global life expectancy still hovered around 30 to 35 years. In Europe and parts of Asia, expanding trade networks connected populations more than ever before, but they also accelerated the spread of disease. Growing cities were especially dangerous, with overcrowding, poor sanitation, and repeated outbreaks of plague, smallpox, and typhus.
At the same time, the intellectual foundations of modern science were beginning to emerge. Early anatomical studies, better recordkeeping, and more systematic observation started to challenge inherited medical beliefs. These developments did not yet transform everyday survival, but they laid the groundwork for the major public health and medical advances that followed in later centuries.
During the 18th century, life expectancy at birth in parts of Western Europe slowly rose from the mid-30s to around 40 years by the century’s end. Gradual improvements in agriculture increased food availability and reduced famine, while early public health measures — though unevenly applied — helped conditions in urban populations.
One of the most important breakthroughs was the spread of smallpox inoculation, which reduced deaths from one of the era’s most feared diseases. Even so, progress remained fragile, with infant mortality still often 30% to 40% or higher, and infectious diseases continued to define the limits of human lifespan.
The 19th century marked a major turning point in longevity, especially in industrializing countries such as Britain and the United States. Life expectancy rose from roughly 35 to 40 years at the century’s start to around 45 to 50 years by the end. Although industrial cities initially produced terrible living conditions, they also became the testing ground for major reforms.
The biggest gains came less from direct medical treatment than from public health infrastructure. Sewage systems, clean water supplies, waste removal, and better urban sanitation sharply reduced deaths from cholera, typhoid, and other waterborne diseases. Improved transportation and agricultural productivity also strengthened nutrition, while germ theory fundamentally changed scientific understanding of disease and set the stage for modern medicine.
The 20th century saw the most dramatic gains in life expectancy in all of human history. Around 1900, global life expectancy was about 32 years, though it was higher in parts of Europe and North America at roughly 45 to 50 years. Over the next hundred years, however, survival improved not only for children but across every age group; by the late 20th century, global life expectancy had climbed to roughly 65 years.
Vaccines sharply reduced deaths from diseases such as measles, diphtheria, and polio, while antibiotics beginning with penicillin made many once-fatal infections treatable. Advances in surgery, maternal care, neonatal medicine, and medical imaging further improved outcomes. Just as important were cleaner water, safer food systems, improved housing, better working conditions, and stronger nutrition.
In the 21st century, life expectancy has continued to rise globally, though the pace has slowed in some regions. By the early 2020s, the global average was roughly 71 to 73 years, more than double the global average at the start of the 20th century.
The differences between countries, however, are striking. Nations such as Japan, Switzerland, and Singapore exceed 83 to 84 years, while some lower-income countries — particularly in sub-Saharan Africa — remain in the 60s or below because of limited health care access, infectious disease burdens, and persistent inequality. Recent events have also shown that progress is not guaranteed. The COVID-19 pandemic caused temporary declines in life expectancy in many countries in 2020 and 2021, a reminder that even one of humanity’s greatest success stories can still reverse.
In 1888, Sears, Roebuck and Co. distributed its first mail-order catalog to U.S. households, a thin booklet that sold only watches and jewelry. But by the early 1900s, the Chicago-based business had greatly expanded its inventory, offering a world of goods that some rural Americans had never even laid eyes on.
The Sears catalog became a go-to for one-stop shopping: Everything from clothing and furniture to tools and toys and even full house-building kits could be ordered and delivered right to doorsteps across the country. But tucked between these practical items were some truly strange and surprising products. Here’s a look at some of the oddest things the Sears catalog had on offer.
In the early 20th century, electric belts were marketed as medical marvels, promising to cure everything from fatigue and hernias to glaucoma and indigestion. The fall 1902 Sears catalog featured the Heidelberg Electric Belt, a deluxe model that boldly claimed to be the “cure of […] all diseases, disorders and weaknesses peculiar to men, no matter from what cause or how long standing” — quite the claim for just $18 (about $680 today).
Customers strapped metal plates connected to small batteries around their waists or limbs, hoping for a restorative jolt. Medical evidence on the belt’s effectiveness was nonexistent, but the device certainly captured the era’s fascination with so-called cure-alls.
Sears didn’t just sell the necessities of life — it also offered items for the afterlife. In 1906, the company published a special catalog offering a variety of gravestones in marble and granite; pricing varied by material, size, and messages engraved in the stone.
All headstones were customizable, but Sears also offered a convenient list of pre-chosen epitaphs and their accompanying prices. “Gone, but not forgotten,” for instance, cost $1.14 (about $40) today. Sears prided itself on customer testimonials, boasting that for a fraction of the cost of a funeral home’s services it delivered “the finest stone in the cemetery.”
Sears was no stranger to selling and shipping live animals. Common pets such as dogs, birds, and fish appeared frequently in its pages from the mid-1950s to the mid-’60s, as did animals such as baby chicks and chickens for farm life. More surprising, however, were the shipments of bees.
Through Sears’ “Farm and Ranch” catalog editions, customers could order specialty “Italian” or “Midnite” bees by the package, with a shipment containing upwards of 6,000 bees including a queen. For those unsure what to do once their buzzing box arrived, Sears also sold beekeeping guides and protective veils.
Heroin was sold legally in the U.S. in the early 1900s, primarily as a treatment for the morphine addiction that proliferated following the Civil War. For just $1.50 (around $60 today), customers could have two vials of heroin, a syringe, two needles, and a handy carrying case delivered to their door.
The catalog also offered an array of other curious remedies from the time: nerve pills, “worm syrup” for children, pills for pale complexions, and other treatments now considered dangerous or pseudoscientific.
Sears catalogs catered to the practical needs of rural life, including the sometimes gritty job of taking care of animals. Wolf teeth extractors, designed to remove the small, sharp “wolf teeth” in horses, were part of a broader selection of veterinary tools. Alongside them, customers could easily order castrating knives, worm powders, poultry markers, and other specialized equipment that would make most modern retail consumers wince.
Fur trapping remained a legitimate profession in early America, and Sears catalogs supplied the necessary wares. Otter traps were typically made of steel and were spring-loaded — just the thing that rural customers needed for trapping fur, food, or even just for pest control.
In the early 1920s, Sears went a step further and began buying furs from its customers to sell in its own “Sears Tips to Trappers” catalog and at its fur show. The company ran the fur business until the late 1950s, when its focus shifted from the rural market to its burgeoning urban customer base.
Before we knew its health hazards, asbestos was hailed as a miracle material thanks to its durability and fire resistance. Sears offered not only asbestos-based siding, roof coatings, and tiles to homeowners, but also — alarmingly — cooking tools. Asbestos-lined and coated omelet pans, stove linings, stove mats, and toasters were all featured in a 1902 catalog. It wasn’t until the 1980s that asbestos’ possible health hazards were fully understood and the material was no longer used in American homes.
The Sears catalog wasn’t just about goods — it also offered educational opportunities that its rural customers may not have otherwise had access to. In the fall 1907 catalog, a six-month bookkeeping course was offered for the low price of just $5. The course included about 20 different ledgers, journals, and balance sheet books totaling 7 pounds of materials, as well as free penmanship instruction — at about $173 today, that’s still a bargain.
Without context, a 100-pound bag of crushed oyster shells seems like one of the most bizarre items a catalog could offer. So what was it for? Poultry feed. Chickens — more specifically, laying hens — require a lot of calcium to ensure they lay strong, healthy eggs. Crushed oyster shells served as an important dietary supplement for the farm animals, as a natural source of slow-release calcium that, today, commercial pet food companies incorporate right into their products.
Inspired by Turkish hammam traditions, Sears brought some soothing heat to the home with its vapor bath cabinets. These wooden or metal enclosures allowed users to sit inside while steam circulated around the body; only the head was left exposed. Sears claimed that its vapor baths could “free the skin and tissues of the poisons that clog and injure the system,” a sentiment shared by the era’s belief in steam as a therapeutic tool. At a time when Victorian bathhouses and steam treatments were still quite popular, these cabinets offered a way to recreate the experience at home — no overseas spa-town visit required.
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The Most Iconic Cars of the 1970s
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AuthorKristina Wright
April 16, 2026
Love it?142
The 1970s were a wild ride for fashion, politics, music, and, yes, cars. As gas prices spiked and tastes shifted from big and brawny to compact and efficient, the decade’s most memorable automobiles reflected the changing times. Whether you were into style, speed, or just saving gas, the ’70s had a ride for you.
Here are seven of the most decade-defining cars of the 1970s — models that turned heads, made the news, and earned their street cred one mile at a time. Which one would you drive today?
The Pontiac Trans Am, introduced in 1969 as a high-performance version of the Firebird, became a symbol of American muscle and attitude in the 1970s. With its aggressive styling, T-top (removable roof panels), shaker hood scoop (engine-mounted air intake that protruded through the hood), and iconic “screaming chicken” hood decal, the Trans Am stood out in an era when many muscle cars were fading due to tightening emissions regulations and rising insurance costs.
Sales were relatively modest early in the decade but soared in the late 1970s — especially after the 1977 filmSmokey and the Bandit turned the black-and-gold Trans Am into a pop culture phenomenon. Pontiac sold more than 117,000 Trans Ams in 1979 — the model’s best year ever — cementing the muscle car’s place as one of the most iconic vehicles of the decade.
The Chevrolet Corvette held on to its crown as America’s premier sports car throughout the 1970s, even as performance standards shifted and consumer tastes changed. The third-generation Corvette, or C3, debuted in 1968 and defined the following decade with its sleek “Coke bottle” curves, pop-up headlights, and T-top roof.
While rising gas prices, insurance costs, and new safety measures took a toll on horsepower, the Corvette leaned into style, comfort, and drivability to stay relevant. Its pop culture presence was boosted by the 1978 film Corvette Summer, featuring a young Mark Hamill chasing after his stolen custom Stingray. Sales remained solid throughout the ’70s, with worldwide production for the C3 generation exceeding 500,000.
While not as flashy as some cars, the Oldsmobile Cutlass was a dominant force on American roads in the 1970s — it became the nation’s bestselling car by 1976 and held on to that title into the 1980s. It struck a sweet spot with buyers, offering a blend of sporty styling (especially in the popular Cutlass Supreme), comfortable interiors, and dependable performance that appealed to families and automobile enthusiasts alike.
The Cutlass line was versatile, too, with coupes, sedans, and wagons that fit a variety of lifestyles and tastes. Its popularity wasn’t just limited to suburbia — racing legend Richard Petty was sitting behind the wheel of a Cutlass when he won the 1979 Daytona 500, proving this ’70s staple had muscle as well as mass-market appeal.
Introduced in 1969 by Nissan for the American market, the Datsun 240Z quickly transformed the American sports car landscape. Featuring sleek European-inspired styling with a long hood and fastback profile (a roofline that slopes down to the rear bumper), a powerful inline-six engine, and a price tag well below that of comparable sports cars from Porsche or Jaguar, it was an immediate success. The 240Z also delivered exceptional handling and was capable of going from zero to 60 in under eight seconds — impressive for its time.
More than an affordable sports car, this Datsun helped establish Japanese automakers’ credibility with American drivers and paved the way for a wave of imports in the latter half of the 1970s. With more than 150,000 cars sold in just four years, and the introduction of the 260Z and 280Z models in the mid-’70s, the Z series became a symbol of a new kind of car — sporty, efficient, and affordable.
Introduced in 1970 and named Motor Trend’s Car of the Year in 1973, the Monte Carlo was Chevrolet’s entry into the personal luxury car market. Powered primarily by V8 engines, the Monte Carlo balanced performance with smooth handling, appealing to buyers seeking both power and style.
The model gained additional recognition through its participation and success in NASCAR racing during the 1970s, which helped reinforce its sporty image. Over the decade, the Monte Carlo consistently ranked among Chevrolet’s bestselling models and became a notable example of the personal luxury coupe trend that marked the era.
Credit: PhotoQuest/ Archive Photos via Getty Images
AMC Gremlin
Introduced on April 1, 1970 — yes, April Fools’ Day — the AMC Gremlin established itself as the first American-made subcompact car, beating the Ford Pinto to market by a few months. Its distinctive stump-tailed design (a tapering roofline and truncated rear), vibrant paint options from butterscotch gold to wild plum, and affordable price helped it develop a cult following. AMC built 671,000 units between 1970 and 1978, making it the brand’s second-bestselling model of the decade.
When the AMC Pacer launched in 1975, it quickly outpaced the Gremlin to become AMC’s bestselling car of the 1970s, thanks to its roomy interior and rounded styling. But it was the Gremlin’s bold, unconventional look and pioneering role in the subcompact market that paved the way for the Pacer. The Gremlin appealed to budget-conscious buyers and earned a unique eco-friendly nod when students at UCLA created a hydrogen-powered version in 1972.
The Volkswagen Beetle was the most popular import car in the U.S. throughout the 1970s, continuing a run that began in the 1950s. Originally developed in Germany before World War II, the Beetle’s postwar global success made it one of the bestselling cars of all time. By the late 1960s and early ’70s, its quirky and distinctive rounded design had become a symbol of counterculture in America. In 1972, it surpassed the Ford Model T as the world’s top-selling car.
In the U.S., the Beetle’s simple mechanics, compact size, and low price made it especially appealing during the fuel-conscious 1970s. While domestic automakers rushed to release their own subcompacts, the VW bug had already built a reputation for reliability and charm — helping it remain a top choice among budget-minded drivers well into the decade. U.S. sales of the original air-cooled Beetle ended in 1979, but by then, the model had already cemented its legacy as one of the most iconic cars of the era.
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Why Do Jeans Have Rivets?
Credit: FPG/ Archive Photos via Getty Images
AuthorNicole Villeneuve
April 16, 2026
Love it?49
You’ve probably noticed them without giving them a second thought. Those tiny metal studs near the front pockets of your jeans are easy to overlook, but they’ve been a fixture of the garment for more than a century. So why are they there? Sure, they add to denim’s rugged, familiar charm — but they also tell the story of how jeans became some of the most useful pants in history.
By the late 19th century, what we now call jeans — then more commonly known as waist overalls — had become the standard uniform of hard labor in the United States. Gold miners, railroad workers, farmers, and teamsters (the people who drove horse-drawn wagons) all relied on the garment’s sturdy material to endure long days of physically demanding work.
These early work pants were primarily made from cotton duck canvas; denim was used only occasionally until it overtook canvas sometime in the late 1800s, and the word “jeans” itself didn’t catch on until the 1950s and ’60s. While the heavy canvas held up well, the pants didn’t always. Pockets in particular were known to pull away under the weight of tools and repeated strain. For all their toughness, early jeans still came apart quickly.
In 1870, a tailor named Jacob Davis in Reno, Nevada, was tasked with solving that very problem when a customer asked if there was a way to make her husband’s work pants last longer. Davis borrowed an idea from some of his other projects. He’d been using rivets — small metal fasteners — on the horse blankets and wagon covers he often made for teamsters. Noticing some leftover rivets on the table, he was struck by an idea: Why not use them to reinforce the pockets of work pants?
The solution was simple, but it worked. The pants held up, and word spread. By 1872, Davis realized he might be onto something big, but without the time or money to properly pursue a patent, he reached out to his fabric supplier in San Francisco, a successful dry goods wholesaler named Levi Strauss. The men partnered up, and on May 20, 1873, they received a patent for an “Improvement in Fastening Pocket Openings.”
The feature proved so useful that when the patent expired in 1890, other manufacturers rushed to add rivets to their own work pants. Until around the 1930s, jeans were worn almost entirely out of necessity. But as the pants slowly moved from workwear to everyday wear — especially after World War II — their design, including the rivets, evolved.
The Levi Strauss clothing company made adjustments over time based on customer complaints. Back pocket rivets, for instance, did a good job reinforcing seams, but they also scratched furniture and horse saddles. In 1937, Levi’s began concealing those rivets under the fabric, and by 1966, they were removed altogether, replaced with reinforced stitching known as bar tacks that still do the job today.
Another early Levi’s design included a rivet at the base of the fly. That feature was removed during World War II to cut back on the use of raw materials needed for the war effort. The rivets in the watch pocket — the tiny pocket in the front of jeans traditionally used to hold a pocket watch — were also removed, but reappeared after the war, unlike the crotch rivet. This decision was rumored to have been inspired by the discomfort the small piece of metal on the fly caused when it heated up while sitting around a campfire.
Most jeans today still include rivets, especially on the front pockets and watch pocket. But while many lines of work rely on the durability of denim trousers, today’s rivets mostly serve as a nod to their heritage — a 19th-century fix that helped turn a pair of work pants into a style staple across generations.
We rarely give a second thought to adding a splash of milk to our morning coffee or cereal, but for most of human history, drinking another species’ milk was unusual. Humans couldn’t easily digest animal milk, and species that could reliably supply it were undomesticated. So when — and why — did that change?
Researchers agree that pinpointing the exact time and place humans began drinking cow’s milk is difficult, but there are some clear milestones. Around 10,000 BCE, humans in the hilly landscapes around modern-day Turkey were evolving from a hunter-gatherer lifestyle to agricultural communities. Part of this transition was the domestication of animals, starting with sheep and goats, and later, around 8000 to 7500 BCE, cattle. Domestication made it easier to manage these animals for meat, hides, and eventually, milk.
Much of what we know about early dairying comes from residues in pottery. Lipid analysis has revealed animal milk fats embedded in shards from the Neolithic Period, roughly 7,000 to 9,000 years ago. Milk was also sometimes mixed with grains, suggesting it was at least incorporated into meals, if not consumed on its own. And as historian Deborah Valenze wrote in 2011’s Milk: A Local and Global History, it’s possible this residue could also have indicated a religious ritual or ceremony rather than consumption.
It was dental research, not pottery, that offered scientists the first direct proof that humans consumed cow’s milk. In 2019, researchers at England’s University of York analyzed hardened plaque from Neolithic humans in Britain and found evidence that they consumed milk from cows, sheep, and goats around 6,000 years ago. Other similar studies traced milk consumption through the Bronze Age around 3000 BCE.
Most Neolithic people were, however, lactose intolerant; drinking fresh milk could cause severe stomach issues and illness. So researchers believe the dairy traces may have been from cheese or yogurt, which contain less lactose than fresh milk. Young children naturally produce lactase (the enzyme that breaks down lactose) for several years after weaning from breast milk, so it’s also possible that fresh milk served as an important, calorie-dense food for early childhood survival in early farming communities.
So, did adults also drink fresh cow’s milk? Based on human genetic patterns, researchers think it’s likely. Genetic mutations that allowed adults to digest lactose — called lactase persistence — began appearing around 8,000 years ago, likely because some populations were already drinking fresh milk. The mutations spread most rapidly in Northern Europe, where shorter growing seasons would have made milk a regular and reliable source of calories, protein, and hydration. Cows, in particular, produced higher yields than other domesticated animals, and in regions with cooler climates, milk could stay fresh and more suitable for drinking for longer than it did in warmer regions.
Drinking milk wasn’t just a dietary change — it was part of a much larger shift in human history. Studies show that populations with high milk consumption tended to be taller and heavier, and those who could digest lactose were more likely to survive famines or seasonal crop shortages, giving them an evolutionary edge. Still, the ability to comfortably drink fresh milk as an adult was the exception, not the rule, for thousands of years. In most early societies, milk was processed into cheese or yogurt more often than it was poured, and even today, lactose intolerance remains common in many parts of the world, showing that widespread milk drinking is a relatively recent — and uneven — chapter of human history.
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