We’re still here
By Bryan Whiting
Glenwood Springs
Baby-boomers have a lot going for them.
A few decades ago, I remember determining I would be 52 when the year 2000 arrived. My internal response: “Wow, that’s old. I wonder what it’s like? Too far in the future to matter.”
Today, we hear the world belongs to millennials. “Seasoned” citizens should get out of the road, sometimes literally. Others remark age must be difficult. It’s not so bad. We’ve learned a lot and are tougher than you think.
We know why they’re called millennials. It can take a thousand years to get them out of the house. We were not only tougher, but more loyal. We didn’t have seat belts. Car seats didn’t exist. We stood up in the front passenger seat. We were going to go through the windshield with the rest of the family.
We had extreme sports: seeing how many we could pack in the back of a pickup or in a VW beetle, for instance. We had streaking. Not an extreme sport? I went to the University of Wyoming. Think about streaking there in January when the average low temperature is single figures and the wind is blowing sideways.
Physical danger? Ever had a cramp in a Chevy’s back seat or gear shift knob in a tender location? Most of today’s youth have never heard of mumble-peg let alone participated. Ask your grandfather if you don’t know what was involved. We didn’t go out to eat during school; we ate school lunch.
We were skillful. We drove and parked big cars with a stick shift. We could get eight in the car and at least two more in the trunk going to the drive-in movie. We didn’t need cyber dating, we had coed streaking and toga parties.
Our years provided experience. We’ve had short hair, long hair and no hair. We saw the first Rolling Stones tour and the original Star Wars. We not only knew Elvis when he was alive, but when he was skinny.
We ate apples. They weren’t something in our back pocket. If someone needed a needle it was for a record player. If we hooked up, we were fishing. We had birth control. It was called acne and it was 100%.
We had designated drivers. Someone had to drive the car while the other three were mooning out the back window. We didn’t need to be continually entertained, even at bedtime. The best bedtime story when I was a kid? Darkness. We didn’t need a psychologist for explanations. I once asked my Dad what my dreams meant. His response? “It means you’re sleeping.”
When we said “no” to crack, it was a reminder to pull up our jeans. Things were straightforward with our parents. My curfew was being on time for chores the next morning. My responsibilities were whatever needed to be done, not just what I was told to do.
As a result, we learned how to deal with our children. When our daughter got to high school, boys started getting interested. One called at 2am. “Is Amanda there?”
“If you’re smart, you’re going to hang up right now,” I responded. My wife, being the sweet person she is, said, “Bryan, you need to be nice.”
“Nice ends at midnight,” was my reply. A week later, he came by to pick up Amanda for a date. I met him at the door. “Do you like my daughter?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Just remember, this is my daughter, my baby girl, the light of my life. If you’re thinking about kissing her, hugging her, getting too ambitious in your car, just remember, I don’t have any problem going back to prison.”
From our experience, we have learned to plan. We go to 7-11 to get coffee before we stand in line at Starbucks. My wife, Kathy, was wearing a new locket when her friend Janice asked if there was a memento inside. “Yes,” said my wife, “A lock of my husband’s hair.”
“But Bryan’s still alive,”said Janice.
“I know, but his hair is gone.”
We have learned to use our available resources. An elderly rancher, Hugh, bought a bull and complained. “All that bull does is eat grass. Won’t even look at a cow.” I suggested he take him to the vet. The next week, Hugh was much happier. He said, “The vet gave me some pills and the bull serviced all my cows. Then he broke through the fence and bred my neighbor’s cows. He’s like a machine.”
“What kind of pills were they?”
I asked.
“I don’t know, but they taste like peppermint.”
Our retired neighbor, Doug, visited the doctor for a checkup. “Doug, you’re in great shape,” said the doctor. “How do you do it?”
“Well,” said Doug, “I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, and the good Lord looks out for me. For weeks now, every time I go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, he turns on the light for me.” Concerned, the doctor found Doug’s wife in the waiting room and told her what Doug said. “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” she responded. “And on the brightside, it does explain who’s been peeing in the fridge.”
We can’t stop getting older, but as Will Rogers said, “We could certainly slow the aging process down if it had to work its way through Congress.”