From time to time we have conversations about how our parents or grandparents would respond if they suddenly were able to witness the world in which we live today. Of course the imagination game is based on the idea that there would be a gap in their experience. The would have lived in their own time and then suddenly appear in our time, which isn’t the way time or life works. Still, there is some fun in imagining “what if?”

It has been 40 years since my father died, so he missed the development of personal computers and hand held electronic devices. If he were to suddenly appear in our lives today, he would be mystified by the lack of wired telephones in our home. He might not recognize our hand held cell phones as telephones at all. They don’t look like the classic receivers that cupped around your face with a microphone in one end and a speaker in the other. My father loved gadgets and technology, so if he had lived longer, he probably would have been an early adopter. He loved maps and navigation and I think he would have loved GPS. He would not, however, have trusted GPS as his only source of navigation information as some early adopters did. He would have had the device, but it wouldn’t have gotten him lost as easily as was the case with some early adopters.

I think that our parents and grandparents would not recognize some of our simple interactions, such as a trip to the doctor’s office. My mother lived long enough to be baffled by the use of date of birth as an identifying question. Recently I had an appointment with a family practice physician to establish care in our new location. Every person who worked in the facility, from the receptionist to the nurse to the doctor, asked me my date of birth. We’ve gotten used to the question is a way of asking, “Are you really who you say you are?” My mother, near the end of her life was hospitalized and several people asked her simple screening questions, such as here name, where she was, her birth date, and who was the president of the United States. After about the third person who had asked her the question in a short amount of time she responded, “I can write it down if you are having trouble remembering it.”

Speaking of writing it down, persons of other generations would be baffled by the amount of paperwork involved in a simple visit to the doctor. I filled out an online pre-visit medical history before going to the doctor’s office. When I arrived there was a two page questionnaire about release of information, a four-page medical history questionnaire, with all of the questions that had been on the pre-visit online form, and a two-page form requesting transfer of medical records from my doctor in South Dakota. More than half of the time of the visit was spent filling out forms. All of this paperwork is somehow related to the “paperless” medical records. The medical office doesn’t keep the paperwork. They scan the documents into a computer file and shred the paper. I don’t think they really look at the documents once they are scanned, unless they discover some discrepancy or anomaly. I know, however, that there will be more forms to fill out the next time I visit the office.

My mother, an old school nurse, trained int he 1940’s wouldn’t recognize the lack of touch in a post-covid medical visit. There was a touches thermometer, an automatic blood cuff that didn’t require the use of a stethoscope, and a digital scale. The doctor sat behind a computer terminal and interviewed me from across the room. At one point she did listen to my heart and lungs with a gloved hand and her stethoscope, but there was no looking into my ears or throat. No tongue depressors were in sight in the room. No cotton balls were in a jar on the desk. The examination table was adjusted so it looked like a recliner. I’m not sure whether or not my mother would have recognized the space as an exam room. There wasn’t much examining going on there.

My grandfather would be amazed at the array of battery powered tools in our shop. He shaped wood with hand planes and sandpaper. He never owned a belt sander or a random orbit sander. He knew how to use a brace and bit, and might not even recognize the drill/drivers that we used. He wouldn’t have felt the need for a power tool to turn a screw. He wouldn’t even know what the purpose of an oscillating multi tool could be. I doubt that he ever wore safety goggles or hearing protection. On the other hand he knew how to sharpen and set a hand saw and the difference between a rip saw and a crosscut saw. He could sharpen cutting tools so that they peeled off the slimmest wood shavings. He wouldn’t know how to use a laser level, but he could cut rafter angles with nothing more than a pencil, speed square and a hand saw. He trimmed off many interior rooms with homemade jigs and mitre box and never used a compound mitre saw. His joints were more precise and fit better than the ones we make with our fancy saws.

My grandmother, by the time she was 12 years old, could grab a chicken, kill, clean, pluck and butcher it without a thought. She would be mystified by the cereal aisle in a modern supermarket. The prices in the meat section would amaze her. She would see no reason for a deli with peppered food in a grocery store. She wouldn’t need the bakery, either. Why would anyone need an entire wall filled with so many varieties of bread? She didn't need a recipe to bake six loaves of bread in a single batch.

We live our lives in our own time. We would be as surprised to find ourselves in the time of our forebears as they would be to visit ours. There are plenty of skills we lack for living in their time. And the lives our grandchildren will live are beyond our imagination. Still, it is fun to think about our connections.