Dear academics, corporate types, hipsters, marketers, media, politicians, sociologists, thought leaders, and other so-called latter day cultural experts:
Stop calling me a ‘Baby Boomer’.
Really, just cut it out. You’re starting to annoy me. What can I say? I’m entitled to be a curmudgeon. It goes with the territory of getting older. That, and being allowed to consider myself a tad eccentric 🙂
You know what I like about being 53 and not 23? Or 33? I actually feel that I’ve gained some wisdom about life, the universe, and everything. I feel comfortable in my own skin. I don’t need to prove anything to anyone, or earn other people’s approval. Life is not a competition where you’re supposed to beat others to the finish line. There’s nothing wrong about being a ‘middle-aged’ man. I haven’t lost my love for life, the passion, or the vitality. I still have all my wits intact. I enjoy the simple things like a cold beer, a good meal, a thoughtful conversation, and a good looking hat 🙂
Wow – that’s such the antithesis of the stereotypical Baby Boomer. They’re the over-achieving, overly competitive, self-centred, vain, status-conscious folks, or so we’re supposed to believe. Even though they’re older now, it’s still supposed to be all about them. I know a few older Baby Boomers who seem to fit that stereotype, but I don’t necessarily believe they’re all like that.
You’re not doing me any favours by lumping me into a demographic group that was born approximately between 1946 and 1964. In fact, it’s really kind of ridiculous when you think about it. My parents were born in 1933 and 1936. They lived through the Second World War in Britain. (Marketing people – you know there was something called World War Two, right?) They were nine and twelve years old on VE Day in 1945. They survived the air raids, the V1 and V2 rocket attacks. Heck, my father managed to accidentally end up in the middle of a D-Day training exercise on the coast of Dorset when he was eight years old in early 1944. A red-faced sergeant-major ‘frog marched’ my father back to my grandmother’s cottage and threatened her with forcible evacuation!
When you think about it, the generation of children born to parents who were children themselves at the time of the Second World War should have their own special marketing label – we should be called ‘Baby Blitzers!‘ Or ‘V-Kids‘. Or perhaps we should have been called ‘Generation W‘.
You see how plain silly this labelling and segmenting gets? I think it’s entirely artificial with very little real substance. I was born in 1960; I can recall many historical events that happened during my childhood in the 1960’s and early 1970’s. At age two, I remember watching John Glenn’s cancelled launch on a black and white television. I saw the Beatles as TV cartoon characters at age five. I watched the CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite when I was seven, and how he talked about some place called Vietnam and this mysterious line called the DMZ. I’ll never forget how my father shooed me out of the living room on the day they played the infamous footage of the captured Vietcong spy whose brains were blown out with a gun. I saw the announcement of Martin Luther King being shot on TV when I was eight. I remember the election of Pierre Trudeau in 1968. My family rented a colour TV to watch the Apollo 11 lunar landing in 1969. I remember being woken up late at night to see Neil Armstrong walk on the moon. I also remember the horror of the Apollo 13 mission in 1970, wondering if the astronauts would make it home alive. I remember the huge protest over the underground five megaton hydrogen bomb test on Amchitka Island in the Aleutian Islands off Alaska in 1972. I watched the Watergate trials in 1973.
I never heard of Woodstock when I was a child in the 1960’s. I knew nothing of the anti-war movement, nuclear disarmament, or the Rolling Stones. All the major events that signified the cultural values of the ‘Baby Boomers’ were beyond me as a child. The closest I came to knowing about hippies were my babysitters who wore wide floppy hats and sang folksong lullabies with their guitars. I knew the music of Joan Baez and Peter, Paul and Mary. I watched the Ed Sullivan Show, Flip Wilson, and Laugh-In on TV. I was just a small boy in the 1960’s who liked playing with metal Dinky and Matchbox cars, bike riding, building model NASA spaceships, chocolate chip ice cream, reading, and swimming. The ‘Age of Aquarius‘ was something my parents played on a record from some musical called ‘Hair‘. I think my first real cultural awakening was in 1973, when my parents attended Jesus Christ Superstar in Vancouver and brought back a record of the original Broadway recording. That fanned my interest in musicals and caused me to start thinking about the true nature of religion.
I don’t own a home. I don’t own an expensive car. I don’t take expensive trips. I own a few sticks of wood furniture. I don’t have any significant financial assets. I’m more liberal than conservative. I’m sick of North America’s obsession with conspicuous consumption and materialism. I’m an environmentalist. I hate the whole idea of working out in a gym. I swim two kilometres instead.
Stop calling me a Baby Boomer!
The Grumpy Ferret (Let the sun shine, let the sun shine in!)