One must be this many years old before learning the viewfinder their Dad brought home long ago, warning us not to destroy, which we did, was never a viewfinder but a set of paper binoculars.
We tore them up trying to figure out how to fit two slides in it. And once we had forced the transparencies in it, they never matched up, like the rendering of the 3-D image that the classic plastic viewfinder created.
A friend whose father was a Northern Nevada alcohol distributor following World War II gave a 1948 set to me today, advertising Old Crow Whiskey.
The Old Blog in the Desert 
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