The predictable stories are starting to appear. The belly-button gazing baby boomers are reflecting on themselves once again as the oldest members of that generation turn 60 years old. Sigh.
They can’t get enough of themselves. They write books like “Boomer Nation” and “The Baby Boomers’ Guide to Living Forever.” Ack.
The reason this group has garnered the spotlight for so long is because of their sheer numbers – supposedly 78 million of them. Which is exactly the whole problem with the baby boomer concept. How is it that the 78 million people born from 1946 to 1964 are considered to be one generation? Why isn’t it broken down into decades, like the succeeding generations X and Y? What happened to Generation Q?
Generation Q would be those people considered baby boomers, but who have nothing in common with the older end of the spectrum.
Baby boomers were rock ‘n’ roll; Generation Q grew up on rock with a huge dollop of disco. Baby Boomers listened to the Beatles in high school; John Lennon was assassinated when Generation Q was in high school. Baby Boomers remember where they were when John Kennedy was shot. Generation Q members were either in a crib, or not born yet. They remember when Ronald Reagan was shot. Boomers remember the assassination of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy. Generation Q remembers when the pope was shot and the invention of the pope-mobile.
Technically, Julius “Dr. J” Erving and Michael Jordan are both boomers. Realistically, they defined two different generations. Boomers relate to Diane Keaton; Generation Q is more Jodie Foster-ish. And on and on.
So it would help if the boomers stopped including the younger half of the generation in its self-assessments. The latter half isn’t turning 60 or even 50, and doesn’t want to ponder the legacy of boomers, or whether they’ve sold out. We’ll assume the Greatest Generation, and the X and Y generations, aren’t much interested in this absorption, either.
So, boomers, go ahead and hog the all the jobs and hoard the money. Or volunteer and give it all away. Just do it quietly. Grow old without needing everyone else to watch and validate your existence. Age gracefully without having to over-analyze every second of it. Go ahead and hire the Rolling Stones to entertain at the Super Bowl. Just don’t expect anyone else to think it’s a good idea. And don’t, please don’t, sing that Beatles “When I’m 64” song. You may not like the answers.
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