I was able to observe my generation in full travel mode recently. Stop-overs in Houston and Denver allowed me considerable time to observe the Humanist Boomerist, or the mid generation Boomer.
First I will claim my status as a boomer, born in 1951, therefore I am not being ageist or any other “ist” in my comments…I’m allowed to use the “B” word, dammit!
I marveled at how we got from here
Or more accurately…How did we get from here…
Good Lord people…golf spectators?
Yes, here we are in the golden years, as opposed to our psychedelic years, travelling at the front of the plane, complaining about music today (which really does suck), worrying about BMI numbers, blood pressure numbers and glucose numbers instead of how many numbers you can get out of a baggie.
Basically becoming our parents.
Let’s break it down by sex. Because, of course, sex sells.
Ladies, by and large you look mahavelous! Thanks to jazzercise, aerobics, palates, spinning, Zumba, Oprah, Ellen, Jenny Craig, Dr. Adkins, Dr. Oz and Doctor 90210 you are rockin’ it. I don’t believe there has ever been a generation of Grandmas who exclusively shop in the junior department. I’d also like to give a shout out to the Yoga Pants Manufacturers Association – thanks for keepin’ ‘em tight!
A fun part of my research was identifying the era you ladies graduated high school. Was your hair like Farrah or Dorothy Hamel or Janis? Echos of those styles live on.
I hesitate to go on with this because now I have to talk about us…the guys.
OK I’ll go first…yes, I have an obscene number of Aloha shirts. My closet looks like I’m a retired cruise ship activity director. Fortunately I never have opted for matching them with a graying ponytail (a San Diego style favorite).
Now let’s talk about DCS. That’s David Crosby Syndrome. DCS is when you haven’t seen a lid in years but still get the munchies at 11 pm.
I will be the first to admit that I don’t have the build of a Slim Jim Stick anymore. That 29 inch waist has been in the rear view mirror for years. But hey guys, golf ain’t a sport, it’s a game and watching other guys drive in circles at 200 miles an hour burns less calories than sleeping.
Finally I gotta touch on tattoos – tats, ink, tramp stamp etc. Ladies this may apply to you too.
OK. First, if you’re a biker or a Marine you get a pass.
I’m trying to figure out how this whole rock and roll tattoo thing came about. I can’t imagine sitting on the floor of the Santa Monica Civic watching the Grateful Dead and thinking, “Man, I really want a picture of Jerry Garcia’s face on my ass – forever”.
Here’s the truth guys, that tribal band tattoo on your flabby bicep? It looks like a barcode for the mortuary.
So keep it true to our legacy…Peace, Love and….wait minute….I’ll remember it…there was something else…it was…uhhhh…no wait, no wait…oh well.
And trade in those Polo shirts for a t-shirt once in a while.
I saw two great t-shirts recently
I can only add my brother’s favorite saying, “Boomers – Sorry we used up all the fun!”.