My Childhood and Young Adulthood Considered as a Museum Piece
We both grew up in the Bronx, 2 miles and some 20 plus years apart.
We can reminisce about a major shopping area in the Bronx off Fordham Road and the Grand Concourse, shopping at the same stores, going to the same movie houses and even eating at the same restaurants. We read the same magazines (including Life and Look). We used pay phones. We drank the same brand of soda (in 7 oz green bottles). We remember the same shows, although it is true that she heard a lot of them on radio and I watched them on T.V. We even remember when TV had steady schedules and seasons that always began the same week each year. We played potsy on the sidewalks. (I'll stop now before I sound like one of those "I love the 50's" emails that circulate.)
There were many differences (popular music, fashions, hair styles, to name three) but we have so much in common that we've had several nice chats about our respective childhoods.
Now think of someone 26 years younger than me. Think of it this way: My sister in law is 12 years younger than me and there is so much we don't have in common (not that she grew up in my neighborhood, but just in general).
And the 38 years between me and my son? It's sometimes like trying to build a bridge across the Grand Canyon. (using modern technology, of course.)
(In the near future I am going to blog about some of my struggles with modern technology - primarily, cell phones. But on the other hand....)
Let's list some of the things I've had to explain to him: For starters: typewriters. Record players. Rotary phones. Carbon paper. Mimeograph machines. Telegrams. The Space Race. Communism. The Soviet Union. Hollerith cards (OK, I am being technical here, but my son did dream of majoring in computer science at one time in his life.)
I've had some surprises in my career as a parent but having my childhood and young adulthood considered a musty museum piece was a big surprise. I struggle with this at work every day too, as I interact with members of a younger generation and the increasing pace of technology/social networking growth.
When I wrote the original piece, I thought I would have my revenge when he has kids and they do the same thing to him.
Now, two years have passed and ironically-as he continues to be comfortable with modern technology, he has become a collector of obsolete technology. He is fascinated by wire recorders, laser discs, 8 track players, old computers, and more.
And, I look at the generation of my mother in law, going on Facebook so they can interact with their grandchildren.
However this ends up, the "Ours" vs. "Theirs" generational question will continue to be an interesting topic.