Twice a Boomer …

Recycle anyone?  Bottles, cans, paper and blog posts … it’s the environmentally-politically-correct thing for a boomer … and Boomer is a reprint from 2010. When I get busy I cheat (insert smiley face).

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A bit of sexist 1950’s magazine advertising.

And wouldn’t you know it, I remember Arrow shirts. I ironed dozens of them. These days I might use the iron as a door stop or a weapon to bludgeon a burglar.

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I am a baby boomer.  A generation that defines itself by the word “baby?”

Yes, I am one of millions; self-involved and infatuated with my own history. We wore out the placard of sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll, and can never let go of the memories of Camelot, Watergate and Vietnam.

We will forever be on the cusp of the sociopolitical blueprint of America’s statistics. Not quite as noble and self-sacrificing as Tom Brokaw’s Great Generation and never as free and techno-savy as Generation X, we are also known as the Sandwich Generation.

We are the men and women who have had the responsibility of being the care-givers for ailing parents, teenagers and grown children. We remain the most literate of American children, who struggle with our extended mid-life crisis, fight for our identity and arrive in the end at the cusp of our own autumn years. Drat, autumn has taken on another new meaning!

Our numbers are counted into the double-digit millions from the end of World War II. On some demographic charts we begin in 1944 and on others in 1947. Regardless of where we start the count down, we will continue, even into our own old age, to ride the crest of modern American trends.

Do you remember when being thirty was over the hill?  Maybe you’d best be ready to cash it in by thirty.  Well, maybe not.  Move the line in the sand. After all, haven’t you heard?  Life does begin at forty and I thought it might be a good time to begin mine.

Then again, don’t you think it’s really sexy to be the Big Five-O and watch Lauren Hutton get prettier? You did know that fifty is the new forty?

Then suddenly there it was. In the middle of the night like a stealth bomber, it slipped quietly onto the newsstands. How can you deny it when People Magazine splashed it all over the cover!

Goldie Hawn is sixty?

Do you worry about your immortality?

Do the numbers frighten or encourage you in your life’s journey?

fOIS In The City

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26 Comments

Filed under Random Thoughts

26 responses to “Twice a Boomer …

  1. Do I remember when thirty was over-the-hill?? I was a mere eight-years-old and Mom’s 30th birthday would arrive in tandem with Christmas. I vividly remember staring at the ceiling at night, worrying about what life would be like after Mom died. OMG! Thirty! [This angst may have been elevated by the fact that it happened around the same time I finally stopped sucking my thumb.]

    Being a baby boomer I think life is all about getting out there and make it BOOM!

    I don’t worry about my own mortality anymore. I used to. I’m not sure when or why it happened, but I live life with a “what’s next?” spirit of adventure. I see this clearly because The Hubster lives life burdened by “what’s left?

    You bring back such vivid memories of my back-in-the-days. Back when Dad shipped me off to live with my Aunt and Uncle in California to get me away from those damn hippies and marijuana. Yup! I moved from rural Pennsylvania to Southern California on Dad’s dime to get away from all that bad influence.

    How old would you be if you didn’t know your age?

    That’s all I’ve got, my friend. So glad you got lazy and reblogged an oldie but goodie. <=== Now, that brings back memories of the car radio on secluded country roads and steaming up those windows.

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    • Gloria, you make me glad to post every week. I so look forward to your creative responses and quirky reactions 🙂 Oh my goodness … did Dad do any research on Southern California before he shipped you off? Good for him, he didn’t pick San Francisco.

      If I didn’t know my age, I’d be 50 … I don’t want to repeat the younger years filled with too much angst and insecurities and once I passed the big SIX-OH … I began to feel the pull of gravity. Fifty is round and in the middle of the century and seems a good jumping off place to start over.

      But then, I started over three times now and I can safely say … it doesn’t get any easier. Thanks for you and your great humor 🙂

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  2. I like that: a “what’s left?” spirit of adventure. When i push myself into adventures, I fight nerves and doubt before, feel grateful and at peace afterward. Am about to fly to Chicago for long weekend of bad movies and good friends. Age? I do feel scared of what’s ahead, but also feel more gratitude and more basic satisfaction with life.

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    • Lindsay, I think you might never actually get “old” because of your young mind and spirit. That said … don’t let the numbers bother you … after all what’s the alternative? To die young and beautiful or let age and gravity have its way with us?? Have a great trip to the Windy City or what we New Yorkers loved to call “SEcond” City !!

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  3. As Gloria said, “Where would YOU be if you didn’t know your age?” That is SO how I am most of the time. I feel about 30 or 40 and I’m 61. Looking in the mirror is almost a surreal experience because I wonder where I went! But with two teenagers, 14 and 19, and both still at home, I don’t have time to feel “old” because I’ve got too much to do still. I’m talking marriages maybe or babies or what have you, so slowing down isn’t an option. Plus, being a writer and a rider, I’m goin’ for it til I have no more gas.
    Patti

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    • So Patti, we are of the same “vintage.” I think many of our friends from the on-line group are in our good company. I think you must have started later than I … I am also in my sixties but I have 16 year old grandchildren (twins) and a son who is going through those middle years.

      I agree that as writers and lovers of life we need to give it all we have … or put the pedal to the metal and skid into the pearly gates, worn, used and happy 🙂

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  4. christicorbett

    I love the line “Life begins at 40” because I’m coming up to that marker in a few years, and I’m raring to get started! 🙂

    Christi Corbett

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  5. I don’t often think about me age, although I’m a bit delusional when it comes to accepting what my actual age is. I’m often told I look younger than I am, but I suspect that’s because I’m short. 😉 Bodies age, minds mature, we gain wisdom. I accept all these things, but every once in awhile I have to stop and think about the time that has passed. It hardly seems possible. Enjoyed the post, Florence!

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    • Yes, Laura … my mom used to tell me that the day would come when I would have more behind than ahead and that memories would replace career and life plans. I don’t mind so much because as a writer I am ageless and feel timeless energy. Thanks for sharing. Ooops … I didn’t know being short made one look younger … maybe I should start to slump over 🙂

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  6. Hi, Florence! I said my age the other day and gave the wrong one. Not deliberately. I know I look young for my age and hey, it works for me. I thought 40 better than 30.

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    • Vicki, with that young face and your great family (not to mention wonderful bags) who cares what age you give. You are as young as you feel and with such good fashion sense, you can be an eternal young woman … or more precisely a young Princess 🙂

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  7. Testing my gravitar which WP messed up again.

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  8. Facing lots of intimations of my own mortality recently. Had one of those old-lady falls when I couldn’t get up without help from a neighbor. Yikes. We were the first television generation, which is why we got such a reputation for self-absorption. We were the target demographic for industries that thrived on keeping us self-involved and entitled.. And of course we were the generation who believed we should “never trust anybody over thirty.” We have to live with that. 🙂

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    • Hey Anne, I’m with you and wish I had never made fun of the old lady on the TV commercial “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!!” Boy does life have a way of leveling us out. I don’t mind that we were self-involved since we were also self-motivated. Love that we are a fine aged vintage and still strutting our stuff 🙂

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  9. Florence,

    I missed the Baby Boomer demographic by a year, but feel more like a Baby Boomer than a Greatest Generation member though my birth year might argue. Guss I’m an “on the cusper.” 🙂

    Age doesn’t bother me. It may be bothering my body more than my mind and thought process. I’m not afraid of dying though I won’t be happy about it if it hits before I’ve finished all I have to do in this life… And so it goes.

    Even your repeats are fantastic!

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    • Casey, you are walking in my heart today. I would feel cheated if I were to leave before I had accomplished what I truly believe is my purpose for this life. And so I ignore the numbers and move towards my dream.

      Thanks … I think the repeats are fun to dig up 🙂

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  10. No use in worrying over something that I can’t control . . . and on that note, everyone should be very thankful I’m not in charge, lol.

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  11. I agree, Florence — “baby” boomer? Not me. So I’m officially a bloomer :). And Goldie Hawn is still stunning. So is Lauren Hutton. One thing you said struck me — I believe we are the most literate generation and I’m proud of that!

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  12. You are so right about Lauren Hutton getting prettier with age. I think there are a lot of actresses who have made the forties, fifties, and sixties very sexy!

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  13. Oh, how I remember those Arrow shirts and ironing tableclothes, sheets, pillow cases, dad’s long sleeve shirts he wore in the summer to protect him from the sun as he rode the pastures and skin cancer still claimed him. I’ve often wondered if I’d used a little more starch, perhaps the sun wouldn’t have been so harsh on his arms. I always thought Audrey Hepburn carried grace and beauty with such eloquence. I should have the experience of looking so good in a long-tailed white shirt and tailored trousers. Another great post, even if it is a repeat.

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    • Thanks, Sheri. I remember a long inside clothes line where my mother strung out my two brothers and my father’s shirts, and mine and her blouses. It seemed to me that she ironed all day. Ah, the good old days 🙂

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