Of me I sing. 4 things you really wanted to know about the Baby Boomers…. but were too polite to ask!

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Peggy Lee sang an insinuating song in Disney’s “Lady and
the tramp” that pretty much summarizes how we Baby
Boomers feel about ourselves  — and those who are
not ourselves. (Released in June, 1955, the film was one
of the first that cashed in on my always media driven generation.)
“We are Siamese if you please.
We are Siamese if you don’t please.”
Face it, we (and I must include myself, riding
hard towards 65) are the Most Important Generation
in the History of the World. Of this there is not nor
will there ever be a whiff of disagreement, capiche?
Today, as we  massively approach 65 (at the
rate of 8000 per day), one truth about the Baby
Boomers remains consistent: everything we touch
is transformed forever and stamped with our irresistible
brand.
That’s why you must know about us… and why we don’t
need to know nearly as much about — you! Let us begin…
Baby Boomers are smarter than you are.
We are the first generation that transformed collegiate
instruction from the preserve of the well-to-do and privileged
into a de rigueur Rite of Passage, mandatory for anyone with
pretensions to professional standing and deference. As a result, higher
education is now ineffably part of the American Experience, something
that we mortar boarded Boomers have now bequeathed to future generations.
They should be grateful.
Without us , they would have found it more difficult to party hardy at
Alma Mater, at inexhaustible 18. You owe us…. and we shall surely collect from you…
as we draw our senior serenity from your Social Security fund.
Thanks.
We are not organization people.
If the prototype of our parents’ famously regimented generation was
“The man in the gray flannel suit” by  Sloan Wilson (published 1955),
we want it to be clear: we own no flannel, gray or otherwise… and
wouldn’t be caught dead wearing this mantel of corporate thraldom.
Jimmy Buffet and margarita soaked parrot heads are more our style;
we have set the pace for casual apparel, worldwide travel and insipid
ditties like Buffet’s, the anthem of a generation that wishes to get
wasted more often with better company.
Let me be very, very clear: we hate regimentation. We don’t take
orders well. We cannot abide and will not do the mundane, prosaic
tasks that keep organizations ticking along. Whereas my mother
worked hard (for free) doing things like writing and printing (with a hard-to-
jiggle gelatin press) “The Percolator” newsletter for Puffer School,
Downers Grove, Illinois, my generation has No Time for such lowly
(much needed) tasks. We have Better Things To Do.
As a result, organizations of every kind, in these Boomer dominated
times, are hard hit by a degree of indifference, apathy, disdain that would
have horrified community-spirited mum and her “he’s a good provider”
hubby, your dad.
We do have better sex, and oftener.
Okay, you’re wondering, whether ye be of pre- or post-Boomer vintage,
you’re wondering, I say, whether all the scuttlebutt and (sometimes)
scurrilous tales of lubricity and  pagan Woodstock love-in-the-mud stories
could possibly be true.
They are.
And even more so.
We discovered, early on, that we liked our bodies tremendously…
and that others, gay and straight, liked them, too. It was all “if it
feels good, do it.” And it still is. The fact that our parents Strongly Disapproved
of such glorious,  indiscriminate minglings made it inevitable that we should
have and enjoy them the more.
After all, for the first time in human history, we, the bona fide possessors,
owned our bodies, not the state, the church, or even our “forsaking all
others” spouse. “Till death do us part,” indeed; quaint, antediluvian
idea that.
Divorces skyrocketed, so did couples counseling… but  sex gave us something
other  than Scrabble to pass away a few hours, as pleasantly (and freely) as
possible. We took to it with avidity, enthusiasm, and (too often) boredom and
bruised feelings. Perfection, in anything, is difficult to find… but we keep the
search going.
So there.
We aim to live forever, and remain forever young.
Now to the crux of the matter, the focus of fervid Boomer interest
and actions. Since we as a generation either already own or will own
shortly own (at the demise of our careful Great Depression touched parents),
every single thing on earth worth having… we are now engaged in the
hot pursuit of eternal youth, being the first generation to secure
forever for itself.
Oh, yes, make no mistake about it. Having gathered the lot, we
want to keep it “forever and ever, hallelujah.”
This means obsessive focus on the foods we ingest (and avoid),
the pounds we put on(or take off), gym bodies and sweat inducing
exercises. It’s all part of our massive assault on Eternity; for let’s be clear:
whatever we have wanted, we have secured. With only this, the biggest,
the Big Prize to go.
We regard eternity not as a miracle, but as a problem, greater perhaps
than any other problem we have assayed and solved… but still nothing
that we can’t handle in the hard-headed, inexorable fashion we have
made our own and which has affronted, aggravated, and threatened
other, lesser folk. We care nothing for that. After all the stakes are
enormous this time. So far, we have challenged and rebuilt ideas,
cultures, even an entire civilization, now we want more, the whole
enchilada.
Now, indeed, is our past our prologue, for we are determined not
to go gentle into that good night. (Dylan Thomas, 1951) Absolutely
not.
We know what we want.
We are at work on its achievement.
And in due course, if not sooner, we shall seize Eternity and
savour it. This is our destiny., and yours. Truly it’s better than
any science fiction book ever written.
In all previous generations, for every person in them, eternity
was unimaginable, stuff for philosophers and theologians.
Now, each us of us, in the most pivotal of generations, can
not merely dream, but (soon?) own this, too. After all, millions of us are now
at work on thousands of pathways to eternity. One of us Boomers
will find the way, you betcha. With consequences to fall out later…
when we, massively, have gone on to Something Else.

Over 50? The Best IS Yet To Be… Science Says So!

Aging?
Losing that adolescent gait? Hair thin and tending
to snow?
Got aches and pains in body parts you never knew
existed?
Feel like you’re pulling time’s winged chariot uphill?
There’s no doubt about it:  you’re getting older.
Hate it?
(Drum roll)…………..
WE DON’T!
Results of a most important MASSIVE survey
(340,000 people nationwide) have produced an
astonishing conclusion: as we age, we get
HAPPIER!
Here are the facts:
* People start out at age 18 feeling pretty
good about themselves. (No surprise here for
those with self-inflating teen-agers around the
house.)
* Stress declines from age 22… until (first
important finding) age 85. These octogenarians
are the least stressed among us!
* You worry a lot until age 50 … when it “sharply”
drops off.
* Anger decreases steadily from 18 on… while
sadness rises from 18 to 50 (that tell-tale number
again). Sadness rises to a peak at 50, then
declines to age 73 (thereafter slightly rising).
* Enjoyment and happiness DECREASE gradually
until we hit 50; then steadily rise for the next 25
years, decreasing slightly until age 85. They
never, however, reach the low levels experienced
by most 50 year olds!
These results, so cheering to those of us over 50,
baffle the experts. Are these findings the result of
psychological changes about the way we view the
world… or could it be brain chemistry or endocrine
changes? “Further study is necessary,” say researchers.
Perhaps I can help.
By 50, most of the defining battles of your life
have been fought
Remember the titanic fights you fought with your
parents, your life partner, your children? “Clean up your room”;
“Why weren’t you home at 10?”; “You can’t possibly mean to
marry…”). These have been fought, for good or ill. You’ve
accepted (or at least learned to live with) the results and yourself.
You’ve learned the value of kindness, courtesy… and just plain
keeping your mouth shut. Life, while not necessarily what you
thought it would be, is good. Talk to a senior citizen
aged 85 (the heroes of this study) and see for yourself.
The mixture of contentment and resignation produces bliss.
And so, the great British poet Robert Browning (my
mother’s favorite) is shown to be right:
“Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
the last of life, for which the
first was made.
Our times are in His hands who saith,
‘A whole I planned,
youth shows but half; Trust God:
See all, nor be afraid!”
(The complete survey results are available in
the May 17, 2010 Proceedings of the National
Academy of Sciences).

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