By James Terminiello
Recently, I was speaking with a friend and, as we parted, I turned back, placed my right-hand thumb to my ear and my pinky to my mouth and made a twirling motion with the index finger of my left hand.
Once, this was a common pantomime for “I’ll call you.” Then I realized that I hadn’t used a rotary phone in uncounted years. Moreover, to the uninitiated, what could that twirling motion possibly indicate? Hurricane on the way? I put a spell on you? I need a spoon to stir my coffee? This common gesture is now disappearing into the mist of forgotten social interaction.
And, this is accelerating.
Tapping one’s wrist to request the time of day of a person who has never worn a wristwatch could be interpreted as a need to have my pulse taken. Speaking of time, the phrases “half past two,” and “a quarter to four” mean very little to digital people who rarely see clock faces anymore. Clocks? What are they? And do they really have faces?
Everywhere you look, you see once commonplace professions evaporating with frightening speed. Farewell cashiers. Au revoir toll takers. Robo fast fooderies cannot be more than a few years away. Drone tractor-trailers are on the drawing boards along with driverless taxis. I can even imagine our latest jet fighter being operated by a morbidly obese, potato-chip crunching, crackerjack “pilot” seated deep in the bowels of a secure military air base. Kind of kills the “Top Gun” romance, but what can you do?
And, from the category of “Is Nothing Sacred?,” robot sex dolls are in the process of being perfected. This will be just in time for the inevitable movement to legalize prostitution and eliminate the need for live employees. Investors take note.
To the register of disappearing things we can add:
The Buffet: Yes, there was once a time when we laid out a sprawl of food on long rectangular tables for masses of drooling and sneezing people to gawk and pick at.
Diner Mints: That last little lagniappe (South American Spanish for a free extra item) that you grabbed from a free-standing and exposed bowl as you paid for your meal.
Cash: I recently went to a tiny sandwich shop with only a $10 and a $20 bill. My lunch total was $13 but they couldn’t handle cash, so they took the $10 and called it square. It’s over for cash!
Store Santas: What will overweight, white-bearded men do when they want to have a terrified child scream in their ear? We are going to find out.
Handwriting: I have tracked the degeneration of my signature and handwriting skills since the advent of the personal computer. I am days away from an illegible scrawl.
Calendars: A pity here, as I used to note that November appointment with a quick pencil jot in early January and forget all about it. Now, it’s annoying electronic ticklers on my mobile device.
Actors: CGI is not there yet, but it’s getting close. The motivations are many. Computer-generated actors are never late, can’t have temper tantrums, don’t require raises, and very rarely overdose and die after a 10-day drug bender.
Fax machines: A lusty last hurrah, particularly for the demise of those older models where the paper curled out and slid under your desk.
Ash trays: Ubiquitous in the age when everyone smoked. Now, I wouldn’t even know where to buy one except online. They may make a comeback with a twist now that marijuana smoking is on the rise. Progress? Debatable.
Privacy: This one is long gone, what with electronic tracking devices, easily hackable records, and indoor and outdoor cameras in every nook and cranny. Want more evidence? You have a mustard stain on your collar. Brown, extra spicy.
I’m sure you can come up with your own list of disappearing things. If you want to preserve their memories a little longer, you might consider a scrapbook. Oh, wait. They’re going too.
Never mind.
James Terminiello, a writer and author of the forthcoming comedy novel Caligula’s Kitchen; Roman Embers, writes from Mount Laurel.
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