[I try to start my day writing a 250-word piece on anything. I’ll post one every Monday until I run out of good ones.]
I was born in 1960. When I was young, I knew old folks born in the 1800s. Today, many of the children I know will see the 2100s.
How extraordinary that my life can dip one toe into the 19th century and another into the 22nd! It’s a reminder of how short history really is. An old person holds a baby who grows into an old person who holds a baby; stretch that chain a mere couple dozen times and you’re back to the days of ancient Rome.
My daughters, who were born in the late 20th century, pointed out that bartenders hardly need to do math anymore. All they have to see on your ID is the “19” starting your birth year to know you’re old enough to drink. My girls already anticipate a day when awestruck youngsters ask them, “What were the 1900s like?” They think of their cohort as the last to remember a world with no Internet.
I once asked my mother what it was like being a teen in the 1950s, expecting colorful tales of soda fountains, drive-in movies, sock hops, and Elvis. “Pretty much like now,” she shrugged. “With better music and cars.”
I was dumbfounded until I realized I’d say the same about the 1970s. Our clothes and hair were over the top and no one had a computer-camera-phone in their pocket, but I think the experience of being a teen was pretty much the same as now.
With better music and cars.
1 comment:
Very touching
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