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Babies grow up in a different world from grandparents

I just sharpened a pencil to use in writing the draft of this piece. I used an old, wall-mounted sharpener.

I have a picture of my 6-month-old great-great-granddaughter before me. I look at her little hands and wonder if she will ever use such old-fashioned writing methods.

My mind continues along those lines as I realize she will never experience the feeling in those fingers of dialing a rotary-style telephone. She won't know what a ditto machine is, or even a mimeograph.

I can't imagine what her mode of transportation will be when she grows up, but it probably won't smell of gasoline!

I know it won't be roller skates that she fastens on with a key.

I look at her picture and I look in the mirror. Five generations separate us.

Is there anything of me there in that face? In that mind? Will she like to sing? Write poetry? Dance like her grandmother, or make quilts like her great-grandmother?

She will be beautiful like her parents, but what will her life be like?

I'm feeling my mortality today. I won't get to see her as a grown-up unless I live to be 100, and who wants to do that?

Think of the other things I will miss out on too! A cure for cancer; travel to Mars; climate control?

If my ultimate fantasy comes true, I will be able to visit from the next world in order to observe what goes on here as life progresses. Perhaps I will even watch little Adelynn eventually greet her own grandchildren.

Lynn S. Turner is a Tigard resident who looks at the world in unusual ways.

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