10 Ordinary Things Likely Disappearing from Our Lives Soon

We tend to notice big extinctions—elephants, glaciers, coral reefs. But not everything that vanishes makes headlines. Some losses are quiet, almost imperceptible, until one day you realize they’re gone. The fireflies you chased as a kid. The bank teller who knew your name. The silence you used to find on a walk in the woods. These aren’t just relics of the past—they’re disappearing from daily life in real time.

This list isn’t about nostalgia for nostalgia’s sake. It’s a look at ten specific things—some natural, some cultural—that are vanishing under our noses, backed by data, observation, and consequence. You might not miss them yet. But you will.

Related: Top 10 Jobs That Have Disappeared

10 Fireflies at Dusk

The soft, flickering glow of fireflies once defined summer nights across much of North America, but these bioluminescent beetles are vanishing. A 2020 BioScience study identified three leading threats: habitat loss, light pollution, and pesticide use. Fireflies thrive in moist, undisturbed environments like wetlands, forests, and grasslands—landscapes increasingly drained, paved over, or fragmented by development. In places like the Great Smoky Mountains, guides who once led firefly-viewing tours now report a drop in both flash intensity and population numbers, with entire species at risk of regional extinction.

Light pollution disrupts the intricate mating rituals of fireflies, which rely on precise flashes to locate and attract mates. Male fireflies emit distinct light patterns as they fly, and females flash back from low vegetation to signal interest. But excessive ambient light can overwhelm these subtle cues, effectively jamming their communication. A Tufts University study found that females exposed to artificial light responded up to 80% less often to male flashes, dramatically reducing reproduction. Even residential streetlamps and porch lights can create “biological blackouts” where fireflies go functionally blind.

Pesticides compound the problem, especially those applied to lawns and crops. Firefly larvae spend months underground or in leaf litter—prime targets for neonicotinoids and other neurotoxic chemicals that don’t discriminate between pests and pollinators. These exposures kill or weaken fireflies before they ever get the chance to glow. Monitoring efforts like Firefly Watch, a citizen science project led by Mass Audubon and Tufts researchers, have documented steady declines in sightings across much of the U.S. Without serious conservation efforts—such as habitat preservation, pesticide regulation, and dark sky initiatives—we may soon find ourselves telling future generations that yes, summer nights used to sparkle.^[1]

9 AM Radio in Cars

AM radio, once a staple of the American driving experience, is disappearing from new vehicles—especially electric ones. Automakers like Tesla, BMW, and Ford have begun phasing out AM radios due to electromagnetic interference from electric drivetrains that can distort low-frequency signals. In 2023, Ford announced plans to eliminate AM from all new models. However, it reversed that decision for gas-powered vehicles after congressional backlash. Still, the broader trend remains: newer cars are being built without AM, regardless of public reliance on it.

That reliance is not trivial. AM radio reaches over 45 million Americans weekly, according to Nielsen data, and remains a critical lifeline in rural areas where internet or cell service is unreliable. More importantly, it plays a key role in the Federal Emergency Management Agency’s Integrated Public Alert and Warning System (IPAWS), which uses over 75 AM stations to broadcast emergency alerts during natural disasters or power outages. If AM is removed from the dashboard, many Americans may lose access to the only communication channel still functioning when all others fail.

Despite its declining popularity for entertainment, AM radio still hosts talk shows, farm reports, and local programming that serve specific, often underserved demographics. Latino and immigrant communities in urban areas rely on small AM stations for news in their native languages. The fear isn’t just about nostalgia—it’s about accessibility and equity. Without federal mandates or strong consumer pushback, the humble AM dial may fade quietly into static, leaving gaps in communication that newer tech hasn’t filled.^[2]

8 Redbox DVD Rentals

Once a fixture outside grocery stores and pharmacies, Redbox DVD kiosks are rapidly disappearing across the U.S. At its peak, Redbox operated over 40,000 kiosks nationwide, capitalizing on low rental prices and convenience during the late 2000s and early 2010s. However, streaming services have steadily eroded demand for physical rentals, and Redbox’s parent company, Chicken Soup for the Soul Entertainment, filed for bankruptcy in June 2024, resulting in mass kiosk removals and layoffs. As of mid-2025, fewer than 8,000 remain—and that number is shrinking fast.

While digital access dominates most urban and suburban markets, the death of Redbox disproportionately affects rural and low-income Americans. According to the Pew Research Center, nearly one-quarter of rural U.S. households lack access to high-speed broadband, making streaming unreliable or impossible. For these communities, DVD rentals were more than nostalgic—they were essential.

The decline of Redbox also underscores a broader cultural shift away from ownership and toward digital access, with significant consequences. Licensing agreements mean titles often rotate off streaming platforms, leaving viewers with fewer choices unless they buy or rent online. Meanwhile, DVD collections offer permanence, subtitles, special features, and zero buffering. As the last few kiosks go dark, we’re not just losing a red box—we’re losing a little bit of control over what we can watch, when, and how.^[3]

7 Print Road Atlases

Once a staple of gloveboxes, printed road atlases are rapidly fading from American life. Rand McNally, the iconic mapmaker, has seen its sales of physical atlases drop by more than 80% since the 1990s. AAA, which once distributed millions of fold-out state maps and spiral-bound TripTiks annually, reported in 2021 that requests for printed directions had reached an all-time low. The rise of GPS, Google Maps, and smartphone navigation has made physical maps functionally obsolete for many drivers.

However, there is a hidden cost to the convenience. Studies from the University College London and MIT have shown that overreliance on GPS navigation can reduce spatial awareness and weaken the brain’s hippocampus, the area responsible for memory and navigation. Unlike digital turn-by-turn instructions, reading a map requires active orientation, route planning, and geographic reasoning—skills younger generations are using less and less.

There’s also the matter of accessibility and resilience. Paper maps don’t lose signal, crash, or go dark when your phone dies. In emergencies or remote areas—where reception is weak or nonexistent—a paper atlas can be a literal lifesaver. Yet most gas stations have stopped stocking them, and even libraries are downsizing their map collections. If these resources vanish entirely, we may find ourselves overdependent on fragile systems that can fail when we need them most.^[4]

6 Coin-Operated Parking Meters

Coin-fed parking meters are vanishing from American cities, replaced by digital kiosks and mobile payment apps. According to the National Parking Association, more than 70% of U.S. cities have phased out or plan to phase out coin-based meters. Cities like Chicago, San Francisco, and Washington, D.C., have largely transitioned to app-based systems, such as ParkMobile or PayByPhone, citing cost savings, data analytics, and reduced vandalism as key benefits.

However, the switch leaves behind those without a smartphone, credit card, or technical savvy. The FDIC reports that over 5.9 million U.S. households remain unbanked, meaning they don’t have checking or savings accounts. Many more are underbanked or elderly and not comfortable with app-based payments. In these cases, parking becomes more than a nuisance—it becomes a barrier to mobility, access, and even employment in some urban centers.

The disappearance of coin meters reflects a broader shift away from cash-based micro-transactions. What was once a familiar part of urban life—scrounging quarters from your cup holder or the bottom of your bag—has been replaced with tapping screens and linking accounts. And while it may seem like a small change, it signals a wider move toward cashless infrastructure that excludes some of the most vulnerable people in our cities.^[5]

5 Handwritten Letters

The tradition of sending handwritten letters is vanishing quickly in the digital age. In the 1980s and 1990s, the U.S. Postal Service (USPS) processed tens of billions of personal letters each year. Today, that number has plummeted. By 2022, personal correspondence made up less than 3% of total mail volume, according to the Postal Regulatory Commission. The rise of email, instant messaging, and social media has made traditional letter-writing feel slow, outdated, and unnecessary to many—but the cultural and emotional loss is significant.

Letters offer a kind of depth and intentionality that digital messages rarely capture. Handwriting carries personality. Paper conveys care. Letters can be touched, kept, and reread over decades. Studies from the Journal of Social and Personal Relationships show that tangible communication increases emotional connection and memory retention. While texts and emails often feel disposable, letters are archived—sometimes cherished—for lifetimes. In fact, entire biographies, including those of presidents and poets, have been built from preserved correspondence.

Schools no longer teach cursive in many states, and younger generations may never learn how to format a letter, address an envelope, or even read old handwritten documents. What was once a basic life skill is now a novelty. While calligraphy classes and pen pal programs persist in small pockets, the broader trend is clear: personal writing is becoming a lost art. When the last mailbox only collects bills and junk flyers, we’ll have quietly buried one of our most human forms of connection.^[6]

4 Public Analog Clocks

Analog clocks in public spaces were once universal—on train platforms, courthouse towers, school hallways, and city squares. But in the last two decades, they’ve steadily disappeared, replaced by digital screens or removed entirely. In 2020, the New York City MTA began decommissioning several subway station clocks, citing high maintenance costs. Similarly, cities like London, Berlin, and Chicago have quietly stopped repairing broken mechanical clocks, often replacing them with advertising screens or LED timers.

These clocks served more than just a practical function; they were landmarks, meeting points, and symbols of civic order. Urban historians note that the prominence of public clocks in the 19th and early 20th centuries helped standardize time across towns and industries. Today, while nearly everyone carries a smartphone, communal timekeeping has become strangely invisible. We may know the time—but we no longer share it in the same physical way. The loss of public clocks is a subtle shift, yet one that alters how we navigate public space.

Some cities are fighting to preserve these timepieces. In Paris, volunteers have organized to restore neighborhood clock towers, while in Milwaukee, the historic Allen-Bradley Clock Tower remains a beloved feature of the skyline. But these are exceptions. Without active investment and cultural value placed on analog infrastructure, even these symbols of shared experience may one day stop ticking—frozen permanently at some forgotten minute.^[7]

3 In-Person Bank Branches

Bank branches are vanishing from American communities at an accelerating pace. According to the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation (FDIC), over 3,500 branches closed in the U.S. between 2020 and 2023 alone—a trend driven by cost-cutting, the shift to digital banking, and industry consolidation. In some states, like West Virginia and Illinois, the closures disproportionately affected rural and lower-income areas. While big banks tout mobile apps and online platforms as more efficient, not all customers are equally prepared—or willing—to transition.

This digital pivot leaves behind large segments of the population. According to the FDIC’s 2021 survey, roughly 5.9 million U.S. households remain unbanked, and millions more are “underbanked,” meaning they rely on alternative services like check-cashing or payday loans. Older adults, individuals without reliable internet access, and those with limited English proficiency often struggle with app-based platforms. For many, a physical branch isn’t a luxury—it’s their only way to make deposits, access cash, or get personalized financial advice without paying extra.

The decline of branches also erodes human connection and local trust. In-person banking enables fraud prevention, facilitates small business relationship-building, and provides personal assistance during financial hardship. Studies have shown that bank closures in low-income communities often lead to increased financial exclusion and reduced access to credit. If the trend continues unchecked, we may soon live in a country where millions of people have no choice but to bank digitally—or not at all.^[8]

2 Truly Dark Night Skies

Star-filled night skies are becoming a memory for much of the world. According to a landmark 2016 study published in Science Advances, more than 80% of the global population and 99% of U.S. residents live under skies so light-polluted that the Milky Way is no longer visible. Artificial lighting—streetlights, billboards, floodlights, and home security systems—has expanded by about 2% annually worldwide, disrupting not just our view of the stars but the ecosystems that depend on darkness.

This loss of darkness has profound consequences. Nocturnal animals, including bats, moths, and owls, rely on the natural rhythm of day and night for feeding, reproduction, and migration. Light pollution has been linked to disorientation in birds, altered predator-prey relationships, and even reduced plant pollination. For humans, studies suggest exposure to artificial light at night can interfere with circadian rhythms, increase insomnia, and elevate the risk of certain cancers and metabolic disorders.

Fortunately, some places are pushing back. Organizations like the International Dark-Sky Association (IDA) have created dark sky reserves and parks to protect the remaining unpolluted skies. U.S. locations, such as Big Bend National Park in Texas and Cherry Springs State Park in Pennsylvania, are now magnets for stargazers and astro-tourists. But these sanctuaries are the exception, not the rule. Without significant changes in how cities manage light, most people alive today—and their children—may never experience the awe of a truly starry night.^[9]

1 Natural Silence

True natural silence—environments free from human-made noise—is rapidly vanishing from the planet. A 2017 study published in Science found that anthropogenic noise affects over 63% of U.S. protected areas, even those designated as wilderness. Airplane routes, highways, mining operations, and urban sprawl create a near-constant hum that penetrates forests, deserts, and even national parks. Acoustic ecologists estimate that fewer than a dozen places in the contiguous United States still experience intervals of 15 minutes or more without any mechanical noise.

The disappearance of silence isn’t just an aesthetic loss—it’s a biological and psychological one. Prolonged exposure to noise pollution has been linked to elevated stress hormones, sleep disturbances, reduced cognitive performance, and increased risk of heart disease. Wildlife is affected, too. Studies show that birds, frogs, and mammals change their vocal patterns or abandon habitats altogether in response to persistent noise. Some bat species, for example, lose their ability to echolocate effectively in noisy environments, while birds near highways have been documented singing at higher pitches to compete with traffic sounds.

Soundscape advocates, such as Gordon Hempton, have worked to raise awareness of “the last quiet places,” launching initiatives like Quiet Parks International to designate and preserve areas of natural silence. Yet these efforts face uphill battles in a world increasingly filled with drones, leaf blowers, sirens, and phone alerts. As silence becomes rarer, it also becomes more valuable—linked not only to peace of mind but to health, biodiversity, and a deeper connection with the natural world. If lost, it may be one of the most intangible yet devastating extinctions of all.^[10]