Long Lost

I was speed-walking my way through the neighborhood last night, just at dusk, with my little Shih-poo, Jackson, in tow, thinking about some long-lost sights and sounds, and even smells, and it occurred to me that I've experienced countless things that my grandchildren will never encounter. Oh, I know, they will undoubtedly be faced with a wealth of experiences, throughout their lives, that I can't begin to imagine. Just think of the stories they will tell their own grandchildren someday...

But today, I wonder if Tobin, and Evelyn and little Lydia, and the newest grandson, due any day now, along with any of their future cousins, will ever get to milk a cow by hand, as I did, with limited success, when I was three or four. And, I wonder if they will ever get to hold a newborn piglet, or hear the eager snorts of a dozen little pigs as they crowd together to nurse from a patient sow. I don't remember bottle-feeding my little lamb, Lola, but I suppose there is some chance that my grandkids will eventually raise a 4H lamb or two. They are already old pros at tending chickens and gathering eggs.

Will they ever cook on a wood-burning stove, or use a wringer washer? Will they, of necessity, use a stinky outhouse everyday, or bathe in a metal washtub because they have no indoor plumbing? I know they won't ever have to stand on a kitchen chair to reach the wooden telephone, secured firmly to the wall, and speak into the attached mouthpiece when they want to talk to Grandma. And I am sure they will never listen carefully to the number of short and long rings, to determine whether the incoming call is for their family, or some other person on their party line. To take this one step further, I doubt if they will even learn how to dial a standard telephone, tethered to the wall with a cord. I can't help but wonder what new versions of our modern cell phones will exist when they have grandchildren of their own.

I am sure they will never get to slide down a massive, oak, hotel banister, or manhandle a heavy, glass and metal elevator door and accordion gate whenever they want to move from one floor to another.

Sometimes I miss that old hotel smell, a mixture of french fries, unwashed bodies, and stale cigarette smoke. But I don't miss that pervasive cigarette smoke, wafting its way to the ceiling and filling the air of almost every public place. (I'm sure that ubiquitous smoke contributed to the asthma I have today.) And I'm glad my grandchildren aren't likely to live in a city with polluted, yellow, smoggy skies, thanks to the Environmental Protection Act which passed while I was still a teenager.

It's been a long time since I've smelled a gas-flooded engine when someone has been trying, unsuccessfully, to start their car. I guess our modern vehicles have some new and improved mechanism that prevents such flooding. I wonder if my grandkids will even learn to drive a conventional car, let alone one with a clutch, since driverless cars are predicted to be the transportation of the future.

Meagan informed me, the other day, that most new paint doesn't have any odor. I guess that's a good thing. But it seems like the flowers don't smell as sweet as I remember, and my garden produce is lacking the flavor and aroma I remember from my childhood. I appreciate the hybrid watermelons with few seeds, but I miss the full flavor of those seed-filled melons. I suppose that's the price we pay for progress.


Do you remember the smell of those magical Polaroid pictures as someone waved each snapshot through the air, waiting for the picture to appear? How about the sight, sound, and smell of flashbulbs and, later, those amazing flashcubes, whenever anyone took an indoor shot? I am confident that the younger generations will never experience that, because digital photos are so much better, and easier, too. My grandchildren will never have to wait for days to see if any of their developed photos are worth the cost. You can't beat the instant gratification of digital photography.

Then, there is music, ageless and always available. Because of modern technology, future generations will always be able to enjoy the ever-changing music I've listened to throughout my life. Records get scratched, tapes get tangled, but YouTube and i-tunes are forever--maybe.

I hope my grandchildren will still enjoy reading real books, even when they are old. There is something special about the feel and smell of a well-loved book that just can't be matched with a computerized version. And I hope they will always understand the value of reading their Bibles, whether in book form, or on their phones. Because, as much as things in our world have changed, one thing never changes:

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. Hebrews 13:8