Words + Dreams

All generations have their good and bad points; mine just had better music

Much has been said, and will undoubtedly continue to be said, about differences between generations. So far as I’ve been able to see, every generation thinks theirs is the best. They will admit that the one preceding theirs had it rougher and so perhaps might have been at least partially okay, but any generation after their own is spoiled rotten and the absolute pits. 

Here is how it usually seems to play out:

Music: My music was great, my parent’s music was goofy but maybe some okay, my kid’s music sounds like rattlesnakes giving birth

Clothes: My clothes were fun and stylish, my parent’s clothes are great for costumes, my kid’s clothes aren’t worth using for paint rags…and they cost too much

Cars: My cars were magnificent machines: “They don’t build ‘em like that anymore!”  My parents’ cars are fun to tear up and make dune buggies from, my kid’s cars are just goofy little pocket rockets that all look the same

Books: My books are artistic works of literary magnificence. My parent’s books are boring (at least most of them), my kid’s books are…what books?

Surfboards, skateboards, skis: My surfboards, skateboards, and skis were lovingly made by a human being who spent hours on them and made them perfect! My parents’ surfboards, skateboards (nah, my parents didn’t skateboard), and skis were okay, and my kids’ surfboards, skateboards and skis are just a bunch of overpriced, factory-made-by-the-millions pieces of absolute junk

Guitars: My guitars were unparalleled instruments of musical creation. My parents’ instruments might be okay in a retro piece, my kids’ instruments are useless pieces of over-computerized, stamped-out, jokes

Television: My television shows were… well, okay mostly not worth watching. My parents’ TV shows were worth even less and my kids’ shows are just more junk. Now let me also say that every generation of TV viewers has their good and bad shows. Also, TV programs when you watch them new seem great and in rerun less so and reruns of the reruns years later even much, much less so.  So this category might be a tie.  Suffice it to say that we all watch junk with the occasional gem tossed in and leave it at that. Besides, linear TV is becoming less valuable as we’re watching what we want, when we want, on whatever device we like.

Films: My films were sometimes great, my parents’ films were sometimes great, and my kid’s films are sometimes great.  My father won’t agree with this analysis. As far as he’s concerned, any film that was made after Audrey Hepburn appeared with elbow-length gloves is trash. But he’s wrong; in fact, everyone is wrong. The best film ever made is from my generation: “It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World” is the single best film ever made. Period. End of argument. So there.                                                   

As you can see from this miniscule list, there are generational differences in almost everything.  Except perhaps chocolate. Every generation I’ve ever seen, known of, or read about is essentially a chocolate generation. 

My generational differences

The differences between my son’s generation and mine hit me full-on a few days ago.  We were sitting around the table having dinner and doing our evening check-ins and high-and-lows (everyone discusses the high point and a low point of their day). During this time my son Ryan happened to mention that he needed a flash drive for class. I said okay we can get one.       

“When do you need it?”                                 

“Tomorrow.”                     

“Tomorrow?”                    

“Yeah.”                              

“Why didn’t you tell me this when I picked you up from school / when we were out running around getting your glasses / when we picked up your sister / when we weren’t having dinner??????”                                     

“I forgot,” he answered with the usual kid answer.  I did the usual dad growl under my breath and wondered where I had left the Rolaids.                                       

Ryan stayed at home with mom to finish his homework while my daughter and I drove to Office Depot down the hill to get a flash drive.  It was during this drive that I happened to remember a very similar scene from years ago. Instead of Ryan, however, it was me at dinner with my parents and sister and instead of a flash drive it was poster board for a school project the next day.       

At the time we lived in a town without an Office Depot or any other office supply store for that matter. The only place to get poster board, and the only place open was a Thrifty’s drug store (which luckily did have poster board). I still remember the drive there with my father saying to me essentially the same things I said to Ryan (with the added bonus of my father swearing a blue streak; there’s nothing like the swearing of a former WWII sailor when he gets wound up).                                   

I got my poster board and Ryan got his flash drive.  Two kids needing something and two dads were really annoyed that they were very unexpectedly behind the wheel. Then it was poster board, now its flash drive; we’re still human beings doing what we do best and that is simply be human beings doing whatever it is we have to do.                                         

Ryan may someday in the future be out on an evening run with a child seeking something or other and during that run he may remember the night I went after a flash drive.  I hope so; it may make him a little less annoyed and look at his own child with renewed love as he remembers his own father’s love just like I remembered mine.