Baby Boomers Grow Up Kinda

Not all Baby Boomers have retired but those of us who have are living in a new chapter. It starts with our body shapes which in many cases have traveled south. While I recognized there are exceptions to every rule, the majority of us don't have the oomph of old. Our senses are on a slow slide and tread mills are guilt trips used in spurts. Yet, this is a great, grand time to be a senior. The rat race we endured is over. We can be friendly without hidden motives. There are no competitive games going on now, and we can enjoy people for who and what they are. We talk to everyone, the clerks in the store, the lady behind us in line, the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker. We can take a nap whenever we want, and watch TV until two in the morning. It's freedom with a new hue.
Now I cannot hear my husband complain and glory be, he cannot see me as well as he used to. If that isn't progress what is?

It gets better. Our beautiful grandchildren are thoroughly enjoyed and then returned to their rightful owners when we are utterly worn out. We couldn't do that in years of yore. We get to enjoy and spoil them but discipline is left to the parents. That gives us a huge advantage and we gladly take the hero status. Our schedules have slowed down and we get to smell the roses literally. So many of us enjoy gardening and pampering our plants to new heights.

Double income couples have a few adjustments to make when both are home all day. Roles that were clearly defined are now fuzzy and one's way of doing things is not necessarily compatible with the other. Case in point, loading the dishwasher.  After loading the dishwasher for thirty plus years do you really have to be told how to do it "properly." Then there is the battle of the remote. Viewing habits are inevitably different; multiple TV's come in handy. Have you ever noticed how the women who was always cold is now always hot, and the man who was always hot is turning up the thermostat because he is cold. It is a cold war of sorts. It all works out eventually, aided by the fact that you both don't hear so well. Blessing in disguise.
It's time to travel when you can, go where you want and remember to bring along the Tums.

Baby Boomers Grow Up

The question might be; did we grow up or grow out. I am guessing there was some of both. We are older, somewhat wiser, certainly heavier than those willowy teen years, and we cling to our youthful memories like bark clings to a tree. We are in a chapter that we laughed at when we were young and fearless. Grandmas’ with false teeth, Uncles grey haired and stooped, Aunts with tight perms that looked like the nest of a bird. How we laughed. Well certainly our older population does not quite fit the mold.  We work out to some degree, we color our hair, we fix our teeth, and more than a few get a little help from the plastic surgeons. How we embrace this chapter of more limited mobility, as in dancing the Twist to Chubby Checker, or running a marathon has a lot of variables but there are some things there are no escaping, our bodies are older and more worn.

The clever marketers have new labels for us, active adults, independents, vibrant and anything that will entice us to embrace their products.  The realities lie a bit beneath all that hyperbole.  We have a deserved reputation for being avid consumers and the peddlers are still out to get us. The difference is that by now we live with realities that are not depicted in their incessant commercials about the good life.  It is a good life but for a lot of different reasons.

The biggest tool in our bag of tricks for facing the challenges of getting older is a sense of humor. It can carry us through a myriad of circumstances that otherwise might have ignited us into a raging fire. Where there were raised eyebrows and racing heart beats now there can be a good belly laugh. That sense of humor can keep you younger than anything they put in a bottle or capsule. I want to explore the daily challenges that come upon us and how a sense of humor casts a light of guilty joy.

Baby Boomers Grow Up

Most likely our parents served in the war. They came home, married their sweethearts and began the journey to middle class affluence. The mantra of new and improved, more and better, became ubiquitous as marketers brought temptations to a high pitch. Cloth diapers were placed with disposable, washing dishes by hand was considered passé, and from cars to mink coats the race was on.

 Many servicemen had learned new skills in the service, and even more took advantage of the G.I. Bill, which allowed them to further their education.  The pathway was cleared for better jobs, better pay and more opportunities.  They were proud of their service and as we grew up and watched the war time movies we shared in their pride of serving their country. They taught us many things that “Greatest Generation” espoused and one of them was a strong work ethic. We earned our allowances and we shared in the responsibilities of our homes.  Their deprivations and struggles made them want more for us, and things came our way that they did not have in their childhood.  They were respectful of authority, their country, and boasted a great sense of patriotism.

That was our backdrop. Moms at home, dads at work, teachers, policeman, politicians and Presidents respected. We all grieved when President Kennedy was assassinated and remember the place we were when it happened. For many of us it was High School.

Gradually things began to change. Commodities became more expensive, more women worked outside the home, and our taste for shopping and acquiring made more demands on our time and less for our families. Employees changed also as we chose our jobs based on the highest bidder and loyalty to the company became a thing of the past. Mobility caused us to move away from our friends and relatives to seek a more lucrative salary and we lived among strangers.  Our children changed school on the average of every six years and many were left with baby sitters in after school hours. Their childhood was not our childhood. Their journey not our journey. They were given more and more material things and less and less of our time. The TV became an important focus for them while we juggled our home and work schedules.  As a result of our indulging our children they became more self-centered yet we still tried to instill those values our parents had passed on to us. Now we have the time to reflect on our choices, reap the rewards or pain of our decisions, and witness a whole new generation being brought up in a radically different world than the world we experienced. 

High School in the 60's

Although the make believe world of childhood was left far behind, the teenage years were full of wonder and yearning. You wanted to be popular, you wanted to be beautiful or handsome, you wanted to be with your friends a lot more than being home, and you wanted to belong. In the teen age years emotions were very close to the surface.  A snub could bring on a flood of tears, a poor grade could seem like the end of the world, and a pimple on your face was the disaster to end all disasters. You saw everything as black and white, not yet having learned the many shades of gray.
High School was a squat rectangular building, non imposing, located on a busy street. A faded red brick structure with tall institution like windows, it was flanked by a field for sports and bleachers for spectators. Much of the school life was centered around the football games and sport events. I did not attend those games having too much responsibility waiting for me at home but I knew of their importance from conversations in the social circles.
What do I remember;
heavy books lugged from home and carried around to classes
the sound of the bells when class was over and the hum of human traffic in the halls
the sound of lockers slamming closed
laughter
late bells
the smell of food coming from the home economic classes
the clatter of dishes in the cafeteria
In classes there were notes passed to each other inside notebooks and endless doodling on the papers while the teachers droned on. Subjects seemed so far removed from real life.
Once in a while you would have a teacher that would light a fire under you. They made the subject real and you wanted to know more. That was the best part of learning, a teacher who inspired.
Mostly your mind was on talking to your friends, getting out of the class, and seeing who was "seeing" who.
When a boy wanted you to be his girl he would give you his class ring. It was always too big but you wore it as a badge of honor. Not everyone went steady and there was a stigma to not having a boyfriend. Sometimes you would be given his "letters" which was a sweatshirt with the schools insignia; more status, more pride.
All of these tidbits are just the tip of the iceberg. There were proms, and hair styles, and dress codes all very particular to the 60's. That is yet another post.

Cowboys and Indians

If we weren't watching them on TV we were playing them in the woods outside our home. Our imaginations were fed by the plethora of television shows that pitted frontiersmen against Indians. Our generation had grandparents who were not far removed from the lore and legends of Indians and  subsequently the cavalries were marching across the  TV screen, riding their horses shooting the Indians who in turn were shooting back their bows and arrows. The good guys and bad guys were clearly defined and history took creative license as the depicted the conflicts.  In our young minds it was fodder for creative play. Out to the woods we would go, most vying to be the cowboys and me always wanting to be an Indian. Why, because I wanted to walk barefoot in the woods, and step so quietly on the leaves and twigs no one could hear me. I wanted to hide where no one could find me. I was an Indian at heart and determined to outsmart my brothers who needed to find me to shoot their pretend guns. I could fashion a bow and arrow from a branch and protect my territory and be a leader among my imaginary people. I could change my hiding places and move around as they searched for some sign. I was there in the  moment and our games would go on for hours until the sun was sliding down the sky and there was a loud bull horn voice coming from the house "time for dinner."
Did I outsmart my siblings, did I pull it off and keep them from finding me?  The answer depends on who you ask. You can guess what I would remember.
Back home the TV was on; The Lone Ranger, Hop-along Cassidy, Roy Rogers, Davy Crockett, Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp, Hawk-eye and the Last of the Mohicans, Gene Autry, Gabby Hayes, Toombstone Territory, Sheriff of Cochiee,Oregon Trail, and more and more kindling for the young eager minds of children who craved adventures. The uncharted frontiers have changed dramatically over the years, but not the desire for slaying the new wicked
and singing the victory song.

What's for Suppa?

While growing up in the 50's the obsession of  creating epicurean delights had not taken a strong hold. The meals were pretty basic and gourmet cooking was left to the chefs at high end restaurants. Having said that there was plenty of good cooking going on in the kitchens across America. Regionally there were favorites and I am going to remember what fed our taste buds when mom was home doing the cooking.
When I would come down the stairs for breakfast there was usually the smell of toast wafting around the room. It was served with bacon or sausage and eggs. I particularly remember the sound of the coffee perking, little bubbles popping up in a glass top of the aluminum pot. I loved the smell of coffee but even better was when I lifted the top of the coffee canister and took big whiffs of the coffee grinds.
That is a treat until this day.
We had a large family and to stretch the dollars and keep it wholesome we had oatmeal quite often. I grew to dislike oatmeal until one day I tried it as an adult and absolutely loved it. Of course we doctored it with brown sugar and rich creamy milk. The taste of oatmeal now floods me with memories of that warm kitchen and bowls of porridge set out on the table.

Moving on to lunch the most common and appreciated sandwich was the peanut butter and jelly or PBJ as we liked to call it. It was invariably grape jelly and quite frankly when I had my own brood I never thought of using a different flavor. My grown children pointed that out to me. Other common lunches were grilled cheese with tomato soup, tuna salad,  or chicken salad on white bread, BLT, or bacon, lettuce and tomato. Lunch was simple and fast. We wanted to get out to play and eating was not on our minds.
Dinners in the 50's very much depended on the families cultural roots but here are some of the more standard choices; spaghetti and meatballs, meat loaf, beef stew with carrots and potatoes and celery, baked chicken, fried chicken, fish and chips on Fridays, pot roast (a Sunday choice), baked ham, and the ubiquitous potato whipped, fried, baked, sauteed, and put into a potato salad.
Deserts were usually puddings, pies, and cakes. I confess to being an absolute cookie monster. No cookie was safe around me. The fare was simple and straightforward, but the love and care that was spent preparing it make it a tie to our childhood that is unbreakable.

Easter Sunday

Rituals are a beautiful thing, steeped in faith, culture, and traditions. Like every other Christian family we had our Easter traditions.  Of course it all centers around the religious aspect of the resurrection of Christ.  We attended mass and that was a feat in logistics itself. Easter attire was up there with first day of school importance. For the girls a new dress, ankle sock-lets with shiny black patent leather shoes, and of course an Easter Bonnet. The boys had dress pants, white shirts and little bow ties. Those were the days of women wearing hats to church. Grandma would invariably be looking for her hat pin before we could load up the car with our dainty little bodies. If I was really lucky there would be a little purse to go with my dress and shoes. Oh how important you felt all dressed up. We were packed in the car like jelly beans in a jar. By the time we reached the church the boys would usually have their shirt tails out, and my hat would be es cued.  We would march into the church, mom in toe always with a baby on her shoulders and find a whole pew to occupy.  Mass was said in Latin and totally lost on all of us. I was more interested in looking at the colorful, flowing, purple and gold robes of the priest and at all the shiny objects and statues around the church.  The alter was always adorned with giant Lilly's and the whole room smelled so clean and fresh. Unfortunately our young minds were more on what was waiting for us back at the house rather than the solemnness of the occasion.
I was the chief who would orchestrate the Easter Egg treasure hunt. I had so much fun drawing maps, pinning clues, and hiding the prizes. I remember one year when the final x was to look into the washing machine, after the siblings had trekked all over the yard and house. Voila, X marked the spot.
Sometimes our aunts would bring us chocolate Easter eggs. or little marsh-mellow peep treats. I was totally  mesmerized by the candy eggs that had little windows that you could peek into.  It was magic to me. We would all run around, devour our treats, and play while mom prepared our Easter Dinner. It was usually a ham with all the trappings. The kitchen would have all these good smells coming from it and we would keep asking "how long till dinner?"
It was a time when relatives lived in close proximity. Aunts and Uncles would stop by and Dad would buy a beautiful Lilly for his mother and our mother. Cousins would compare notes, and show off their outfits.  Little did we know that these traditions would be a cherished part of  our memory and that future generations would modify them to the suit their very different lives and work schedules.