“There comes a time when we heed a certain call.”
I like to save movies for when I am in need of them. For instance, when I couldn’t sleep a few nights ago, I had one ready: The new documentary on Netflix about The Greatest Night in Pop, when, guided and kicked off by Lionel Richie, they came together as one to record We Are the World. The song was released when I was a five-year-old baby but its effect must have lasted years because I remember it being a really big deal.
I very much enjoyed watching it, especially all the artists doing their solos in their own unique ways including Bob Dylan, Stevie Wonder and of course, a fave, Cindi Lauper, among others. I finished it just as Sean was waking and I immediately said to him, “Listen to this!” He then later told me he’d had a dream of me talking about some weird movie and I was like, “Really? Ha ha, that’s so weird.”
I read somewhere that, most uniquely, my specific generation which lands exactly between Gen X and Millenial, has to teach the generations that came before and after how to use computer printers.
But it’s not about having attained any mastery, it was just a specific nightmare assigned to haunt only my generation for reasons unknown. Isn’t that so funny? @#$% printers. -In case that sentiment hasn’t published anywhere.
Anyway. Additionally, my generation is the only remaining generation that lived a significant portion of their childhood both with and without the Internet. We will have our adulthood—until now I guess—split up into before smartphone and after. It’s like we were on the cusp of it all. For a time.
Things like this always make me think of Word Processing classes I took in High School that were so relevant then and then totally not, like typewriter classes before that, I suppose—a class I would absolutely sign up for today, btw. I think of my teacher and all her expertise that, like our assignments, eventually went into the trash or perhaps recycling bin, though I’m not sure that was such a thing in the 90’s.
Once we were current, on the cutting edge of many things, and now we are old. No one can say when it happened. Maybe about the time the icloud became a thing, because I definitely remember feeling some serious doubt/paranoia with that. “But is it safe??” Which I think is an indicator or sign. Symptom?
But with our oldness comes awareness, a greater context for things, a wider scope. I think of the scene when all the Avengers are sitting at a table on the ship’s bridge discussing the brewing threats to humanity and someone mentions winged monkeys and Captain America, who must exist out of time, excitedly blurts out,“I understood that reference!” because he’s so old and Wizard of Oz goes back that far and he often is left out of the references of the day. I imagine some of the young tech workers behind them being like, winged monkeys? shrug. And, I will add, how difficult it must be for him to powerlessly witness others not having learnt lessons you fought hard for.
A lot of lingo teens use these days I don’t understand. It is made-up nonsense, as an old person— who is me—would say. But where it gets weird is when teenagers use words or jokes or make references they themselves don’t even understand but I do.
Example:
Julian came up from cleaning out the cat litter one day and exclaimed,
“Sometimes the latch on the box is there and sometimes it isn’t!” And then proceeded to sing a vaguely eerie “something unexplained is happening” song.
Except it WASN’T vague, not in the slightest. I knew exactly what it was.
“Is that the X-files theme??”
“I don’t know?”
”WHAT— That’s a TV show I loved at your age! It was so scary. The opening sequence…*shudder*.”
Having bailed on listening further, Julian muttered something about the 80’s and I threw up my hands and revolted,
“NINETIES. You don’t even understand your own reference!!!”
He defended himself, “I don’t get it, it’s just used as a meme-backer.”
I countered, “Well maybe you should do your research when you… look at memes…”
It kind of devolved into nothing at that point.
But it’s like, he didn’t even want to know where it came from. And that’s what concerns me. Do I sit idly by and withhold relevant knowledge as it pertains to a moment? Is this what it means to be mature? Wise? Feigning ignorance for some other, greater purpose? I’m not sure. But I feel a responsibility here.
This is not to say I haven’t dutifully attempted to expose Julian to all the good and historically significant things that came before. I really do my best. TV shows like Golden Girls, whose style is amazingly 80’s, and jokes are timeless. Or playing songs that will never not be good, like Time After Time, or teaching him how to slow dance to Lady in Red. And you know, world events, geopolitics, etc.
And I wouldn’t be properly middle aged—because I care— if I didn’t continue this rant a bit.
Furthermore/and another thing!—One thing I am not at all sure about is the return of 90’s fashion trends of late. Is this how our elders felt when we were teens? I just can’t believe the turnaround was this quick. Then again, I was a later-in-life child born to parents 1.5 generations before me so it was less likely they’d be like, “Poodle skirts, what? Pedal pushers are back? Already?”
It was, however, more likely that I got clothes as a teen from Land’s End or LL Bean which wasn’t quite what the teens gravitated toward at the time. (Love you, Mom, I’m totally into them now. See? I got there.)
It would be a fun thing to track and chart and then predict the return of cycled trends. A circle of nature, like periodical cicadas living out their youth underground to finally emerge into adults every seventeen years. This feels significant. I think I’m onto something here.
Some things make sense but others do not. I see these kids wearing crocs and I feel the injustice a bit. Like, “Seriously? I tried this a mere fifteen years ago and everyone was all, Noooo, those are uggo1. Why is it cool now??” Is it because the first time around it was sincere? And the second time it was ironic? Because I was wearing them that way the first time! And people were far less accepting. But nobody cares. Nobody can hear me, because they’re too busy being current.
And then there’s wide leg pants which aren’t the worst, but ofwhich I thought I saw the last in 2003, which was just the other day, I’m fairly certain. I’m not sure what I think about rugby shirts other than it’s something Sean and I can both remark on, in shared confusion and reminiscence. I can’t logically, stylistically explain the draw of boxy shirts and big white collars though. Maybe this, too, is a symptom of being old or on the outside— just not “getting it.” Then again, I wore it then, so….hmm. I’m feeling some dissonance.
Fewer feelings, more logic. I can’t quite let it go because there was a reason we moved on from all of this. Like, it got phased out because everyone realized they hated wearing these things and ceased to make sense. Watching it come back now I’m like, YOU again! Do teenagers even know what they’re subscribing to?? Can we not learn from past mistakes?? Must history always repeat itself. 😩
The answer could be… maybe. It might be inevitable, especially as we fall into the cycle, automatically accepting whatever happens. It’s just a little unnerving that I have to witness it so soon. Or, I am experiencing a horrifying realization that i might just actually be that old, a significant cyclical phase complete. It was, actually, a long time ago that I was a teenager, and having crossed over, now I know what every other old person knew before me. Like that line from one of my all time favorite movies, Liberal Arts:
“Nobody feels like an adult. It’s the world’s dirty secret.”
But still! I really thought we’d learned something. And we have new materials now. Jeans don’t have to weigh twenty pounds! All I know is, if people start snipping the sides of their cuffs or cutting the mom jean waists down to make them low-rise, I might lose my mind. If they do, I will be prepared to give a thorough presentation on what will happen. Picture me on a stage in front of a large crowd, spotlight on me, (insight into the kinds of things I fantasize about) with charts, diagrams and gesticulating with a long stick pointer:
“If you make the waist too high, you will want to take some scissors and Mariah Carey-cut the waistbands of your jeans. If you go too low, you will not only free the love handles in an uncomfortable way, but you will never be able to bend over and you will hate it. If you wear straight leg pants, you will want to cut the sides so they go over your shoes. If you do that, you may think you love flare or bootcut jeans but then all of your hems will get wet in puddles. See? See??”
I mean, that’s just good science. Or is it prophecy. Or history, bursting at the seams to be told. Like Maya Angelou said, probably not about jeans, but certainly not excluding,
“There is no greater agony that bearing an untold story inside you.”
It’s a strange and annoying thing to wait out trends, half-heartedly hoping the next one is better than this, yet not at all sure exactly what we’re waiting for. I’m speaking symbolically, faithfully, but still absolutely literally because on the plus side, like the two lovers separated by time in Somewhere In Time, a movie I weirdly think about a lot, with confronting ghosts of trends past, signs of these fashion times, I am now on high alert for the reemergence of my favorite jean jacket I lost in ‘97. Come on, buddy. Come back to me.
I recently came across this pic in my literal, physical photo album, of me in my HS parking lot at age seventeen. This is my beloved jean jacket but now I’m distracted by the disco moves I’m making in the 90’s and I’m forced to wonder: Do I contradict my own point? Is the cycle inevitable? Do I participate and simultaneously rebuke?
Maybe a teacher saw me in the parking like and the following dialogue took place:
“The ignorance! Do you even know what you’re doing?”
And I’d be like, “Sorry, I don’t know the 60’s.”
And they’d throw their hands up, “SEVENTIES!” (pretty sure?)
I think I’m understanding better now. Maybe it’s more about the arbitrary meaning we assign to things and how that meaning evolves, takes a new shape over time, have the life they will have in their own context, their own time, even if it resurfaces in a new decade. It might look the same but it’s not the same. The meanings aren’t the same—we hope. And we can’t possibly pass down our personal experiences to our descendants. They must learn these lessons for themselves. There is no other way.
And though we may hope for better things, for lessons learned, like those who came before, all we can do is wear the clothes we want because they make sense to us, and maybe frustratingly throw up our hands, from time to time.
ugly or unattractive, for the super-olds. Also, lmk if you want to print this off to read later. I’ll come help you.
Ok, so many thoughts running through my head…
- Amen and 😂
- I want to take a typewriting class too.
- I think my kids are so tired of Dave and I talking about our first flip phones in college!! lol I’m pretty sure I still have it in a drawer somewhere. It has the American flag stripes and stars design on it. I might tear up. 🥺
- I hated my first try with crocs too. So much I def haven’t gone for a second try yet. The feel of them reminded me of the spray on shoes on Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. 🤷🏻♀️
- Can we please watch some X-files together? (I just finished rewatching Dr. Quinn. 🩷)
Lastly, you can never stop writing. Ok?
Thank you. Thank you.