I fear that my generation is one of the last who will ever understand the joy of dialing a phone number on a rotary phone that had a lot of 1's in it as opposed to a lot of 9's. "Eh," for a one and "Eh-eh-eh-eh" for a 9 that had to go alllllll the way around.
I fear that my generation will not know what it's like to have ONE SHOT at taking a good picture. You either end up with a masterpiece or a photo of a headless family member on a ride at Disneyland.
(Remember when the flash was nearly bigger than the camera?)
I fear that my generation will not know the pain that can come from touching the old Christmas Tree lights that bubbled up in a narrow glass tube.
These were always on my Grandma's trees. I think they were filled with poison.
I fear that my generation is one of the last to truly risk their lives while playing in a yard where family members were unwieldy throwing lawn jarts with METAL tips.
I fear that my generation is the last to play outside until the streetlights came on, to be lost in an adventure with our friends while none of us had a phone... just pogo balls.
I fear that I'm the last generation who will experience the fulfillment of listening to the Top 9 and 9 on the radio just to press "record" on your boombox so that you can make the best mixed tape EVER.
I fear that my generation is the last to understand how to use and fold up a map.
I fear that my generation is the last to remember when microwaves required their own cart; when they were nearly half the size of a refrigerator.
I fear that my generation is the last to have felt the coolness of carrying a pager. Like a doctor. Or a drug dealer, as your Grandma thought.
I fear that my generation is the last to understand that there was life before the internet. (What's connected us has also disconnected us, no?)
We actually did get mail. No, seriously. We got mail.
I fear that my generation is the last to remember when cell phones were called "car phones" and they were legitimately used only in cars. With wired handsets and everything. And ONLY upon emergency because they cost like a million dollars to use.
I fear that my generation is the last to remember going to the gate to pick up your loved ones from the airport. Like the do in Love Actually.
I fear that my generation is the last to use a bound, paper dictionary and the last to remember paper phone books and their many uses in a home. (Booster seat, stool, fireplace starter...)
I fear that my generation is the last to have experienced listening to records in the living room with their parents.
I fear that my generation will never know how to use the dewey decimal system. The card catalog was like the pre-cursor to google, kids.
I fear that my generation is the last to feel the anxiousness to hurry home and check your answering machine to see if that someone you had been waiting for was brave enough to leave a message for you entire family to hear.
(I also fear that my generation is the last to experience the no-strings-attached beauty in being unavailable to receive a phone call or a text, because when you left your house... you simply left your house and you were unavailable.)
I fear that my generation is the last to grow up with sitcoms versus reality shows.
Who's The Boss • Family Ties • Mama's Family • Mr. Belvedere • Benson • Perfect Strangers • Punky Brewster • Growing Pains • Charles in Charge • Facts of Life • Cosby Show • Different Strokes • Gimme a Break • CHEERS! • GOLDEN GIRLS! • Kate and Allie
*My personal favorites. Cheers and The Golden Girls are two of the best sitcoms to EVER grace T.V.
I fear that my generation is the last to remember "VCRs" that ejected from the top and that had wired remotes. (That's the exact model we had.)
Please be kind and rewind.
But most importantly, I fear that my generation is the last to learn and use cursive. I plan on making the world a better place by teaching my children to write properly in cursive. (You're welcome, fellow citizens.)
Exhale. All will be right with this next generation.
And that concludes the fears that keep me up at night.
I'll tuck them away neatly in my caboodle along with my memories of my shrinky dinks, my big wheel (and subsequent banana seat bike) and poppels.