I get daily reminders that it would seem others, quite reasonably, do not view me or my age cohorts as anything other than old.
It astounds me that the same people would recoil in horror if the suggestion was made about how someone would think or act based on their gender, race or sexual orientation. Yet, they have no hesitation to do just that based on the date on your birth certificate. However, this is a column about perspective.
I turned 74 in July. That got me thinking about matters generational and spans of lives. Loving American history, I am interested in what different generations have witnessed and endured. If someone was 60 the year I was born (1950), that would mean they were born in 1890. That means living through the Gay ’90s, World War I, the Roaring ’20s, the Great Depression, World War II and the Great Recovery. Plus, the Korean Conflict began on the date of my birth.
Think of the changes these people saw in a period 14 years less than my age. The youngsters living in rural America in this period probably viewed the idea of television the same way as my parents would have thought about streaming television or even high-speed internet. Individuals who were 60 in 1950 were a tough lot, to be sure.
What comes next is not a trashing of the Gen Z population. Instead, my condemnation is of my own generation. We are the ones who made sure every kid got a participation trophy. We are the ones who told them all they were wonderful and perfect “in their own way.” We are the generation that started the slow flow, which is now a flood, of prioritizing feelings over thought, logic and reason.
Though we raised ourselves to “not let your emotions cloud your judgment,” we were lectured by our own generation to make sure our children “always felt wanted and free to express themselves.” A youngster who felt badly about anything was reassured, comforted and supported. The idea that perhaps what was causing the problem was their own behavior was not in the equation.
This is not a “get off the lawn” speech. On the other hand, it is a warning. In retrospect, my generation, with love in our hearts, sheltered our children from life’s hard knocks as best we could without making sure they understood how much hard work it took to give them the life they were enjoying and that life itself is often complicated.
The result? The Millennials, our children, have an attitude with certain expectations. Some label this as a “sense of entitlement.” That does not put enough of the “blame” on those of us who were parents. They expect what they were taught to expect.
Other than being frustrated, what is the point of this? I contend our nation cannot endure when microaggressions and triggering events are taken seriously, but the sacrifices made by those who established and protected the freedoms we enjoy are swept away in the name of “telling our real history.” In 2023, for example, Vice President Harris said we needed to recognize and support our youth suffering from “climate anxiety.” Please.
Our hope of an America with a bright future starts with telling all those who argue that showing up on time, working hard and performance-dictating outcomes are nothing but “White, racist constructs” to go to hell.
Life is hard. Life is unfair. The sooner we put the psychobabble in the trash can, the better. The sooner we embrace our nation’s history, culture and traditions that made us great in the first place will continue to be the keys to addressing our current problems so that we have a bright future, even better.