9 things boomers assumed would always exist that their grandchildren will only read about in history books

Growing up in Melbourne, my grandmother would often take me to the local bank on Saturday mornings. I'd watch fascinated as she'd fill out deposit slips by hand, chat with the teller she'd known for years, and carefully update her passbook. She'd always say the same thing: "This is how banking works, love. Always has, always will."

Fast forward to last week, when I tried explaining to my teenage cousin what a checkbook was. The look on his face? Pure confusion. It hit me then just how many things my grandmother's generation took for granted as permanent fixtures of society are already fading into history.

The pace of change has been absolutely mind-blowing. What boomers assumed would be eternal institutions are becoming digital footnotes faster than anyone predicted. And honestly? Our grandkids might only encounter these things in museums or old movies.

Here are nine things that seemed like they'd last forever but are already on their way out.

1. Physical bank branches

Remember when banking meant actually going to a bank? My parents still insist on visiting their local branch, but let's be real: when was the last time you stepped inside one?

Most of us handle everything through apps now. Need to deposit a check? Take a photo. Transfer money? Few taps. Even getting a loan happens online these days. Banks are closing branches left and right because, well, nobody's showing up anymore.

The social aspect is gone too. That friendly teller who knew your name? Replaced by chatbots and automated systems. Our kids won't understand the concept of "banker's hours" or why anyone would wait in line to access their own money.

2. Landline phones

This one hits differently because I actually remember the family phone in the kitchen, with its ridiculously long curly cord that everyone would trip over. We had one number for the entire household, and if someone was using it, tough luck, you had to wait.

In my book Hidden Secrets of Buddhism: How To Live With Maximum Impact and Minimum Ego, I talk about how technology shapes our relationships. Back then, phone calls were events. You'd plan them, sit down for them, give them your full attention.

Now? My daughter will grow up in a world where everyone has their own personal communication device from childhood. The idea of sharing a phone, or it being attached to a wall, will seem as antiquated as sending telegrams.

3. Shopping malls

Every weekend of my teenage years revolved around the mall. It wasn't just about shopping; it was the social hub, the place to see and be seen. Food courts, arcade games, trying on clothes you couldn't afford, it was an entire ecosystem.

Today's kids? They're buying everything online, trying on clothes virtually, and hanging out in digital spaces. The massive shopping centers that defined suburban life for decades are becoming ghost towns. Some are being converted into apartments or office spaces.

The whole ritual of "going shopping" as an activity is disappearing. Why spend hours walking around when an algorithm can show you exactly what you want in seconds?

4. Physical newspapers

My dad still gets the newspaper delivered every morning. The thud on the driveway, the ritual of reading it with coffee, the ink on your fingers afterward. For boomers, this was how you stayed informed about the world.

But newspaper circulation has plummeted. Most publications have gone digital-only or shut down entirely. The idea of waiting until morning to get yesterday's news seems absurd when we're getting updates in real-time on our phones.

What we're losing isn't just the physical paper. It's the shared experience of everyone reading the same stories, in the same order, at the same time. The fragmentation of media means we're all living in slightly different information universes now.

5. Cable television

Channel surfing used to be an art form. You'd flip through hundreds of channels, complaining there was nothing on, then settle for a rerun of something you'd seen ten times already. The TV Guide was essential reading. Missing your show meant waiting for summer reruns.

Streaming killed all of that. Why pay for 500 channels when you only watch five shows? Why stick to someone else's schedule when you can binge entire seasons whenever you want?

Kids today don't understand appointment television or why anyone would sit through commercials. The phrase "stay tuned" has lost all meaning. The shared cultural moments of everyone watching the same thing at the same time are basically gone, except for major sports events.

6. Traditional offices

The nine-to-five office job seemed like it would last forever. Boomers built their entire lives around commuting to a specific building, sitting in a designated cubicle, attending meetings in conference rooms.

Then 2020 happened, and we all discovered that most office work could be done from anywhere. Now, explaining to kids why millions of people used to sit in traffic for hours just to sit at a computer (the same computer they had at home) seems increasingly bizarre.

The Buddhist principle of impermanence, which I explore in Hidden Secrets of Buddhism: How To Live With Maximum Impact and Minimum Ego, reminds us that even our most solid-seeming institutions are temporary. The traditional office is proving that point perfectly.

7. Physical photo albums

Every family had them. Those hefty albums filled with printed photos, carefully organized and labeled. Taking photos meant buying film, using them sparingly, waiting to get them developed, and hoping they turned out okay.

Now we take thousands of photos that live in the cloud. No more shoeboxes full of negatives, no more arguing about who gets the family photos. But also no more gathering around physical albums, telling stories about each picture.

The permanence has shifted too. Those old photos might fade, but they existed physically. Digital photos feel both more permanent (backed up forever) and more ephemeral (lost in an endless stream of images).

8. Video rental stores

Friday night at the video store was a sacred ritual. You'd wander the aisles, read the backs of boxes, negotiate with friends or family about what to watch. Getting there too late meant all the good new releases were gone.

The last generation to experience this was mine. We caught the tail end of Blockbuster's reign. Now, infinite choices stream directly to every screen in your house. No late fees, no rewinding, no driving anywhere.

But something was lost in the transition. The paradox of choice means we spend thirty minutes scrolling through options instead of just grabbing something and committing. The social aspect of bumping into neighbors at the video store is gone too.

9. Cash as primary payment

"Cash is king" used to mean something. Boomers carried bills and coins for everything. They knew exactly how much money they had because they could physically count it.

Today, I can't remember the last time I used cash for anything substantial. Coffee? Tap my phone. Splitting dinner with friends? Send it digitally. Even my local farmers market takes contactless payments now.

Kids growing up today might never handle physical money regularly. The tangible relationship with spending, where you actually see money leaving your hands, is being replaced by abstract numbers on screens. Piggy banks are becoming decorative antiques.

Final words

Watching these pillars of boomer life crumble isn't about nostalgia or progress. It's about recognizing how quickly our "permanent" fixtures become historical curiosities.

What strikes me most is how each of these changes represents a shift from physical to digital, from shared to individual, from synchronous to on-demand. We're trading tangibility for convenience, ritual for efficiency.

The lesson here? Nothing is as permanent as we think. The things we assume will always exist might be gone before our kids are old enough to miss them. And that's okay. Each generation creates its own normal, builds its own institutions, develops its own relationship with the world.

Maybe the real wisdom is in holding these changes lightly, appreciating what was while staying open to what's coming. After all, our grandkids will probably look back at our "timeless" innovations like smartphones and social media with the same bemused confusion we have for rotary phones and phone books.