Shots were fired in Dallas
four years before I was born
a Baby Buster,
middle child,
misfit,
neither x nor y,
too young for Studio 54,
too old for a mosh pit.
Raised on a steady diet of
television and Tang.
Vietnam was a series of
black & white images
while drawing with Crayolas.
Watergate was background noise
while eating TV dinners.
Lying on our bellies,
chins resting in our hands
we waited for Tinkerbell to let us in
to Disney’s wonderful world.
We are products of
the summer of love.
Our fathers were Diggers
our mothers wore flowers
in their hair.
We carried The Force
in our back pockets,
lived the Wonder Years
on a white Huffy with the banana seat-
nobody had a helmet,
everybody had a latchkey.
After school,
we watched the Brady Bunch
dreamed of Walton's Mountain
and grieved for the perfect family,
lost somewhere between Kent state
and Columbine.
We watched while Disco
drew its last breath
and gave birth to
the MTV Generation.
We witnessed the Berlin Wall
come crumbling down
like Jericho,
and watched the Gulf War
from a comfortable chair
with a bag of microwave pop corn.
We remember when
OJ Simpson was a hero,
Michael Jackson was cool,
and Madonna was hot.
We never wore saddle shoes
or poodle skirts,
nose rings or bellybutton things.
Individuality was the new conformity.
We wish we could believe
that love is all you need
to change the world.
A graduate degree is
no longer our guarantee.
Over-educated and under-employed
Baby Boomers clog
the arteries of upward mobility.
Busters work two McJobs
and still can’t pay the rent.
We learned that despite superstition
and social panic,
a millennium ends seamlessly
where another begins.
The New York Times already
wrote our obituary.
Our shelf life was shorter
than the Travolta Stance
or the mullet.
Gen X perches
like a vampire bat,
ready to take over
the 18 - 39 target market.
The Me Generation vs. the
Why Me? Generation,
more likely to see a UFO
than a social security check.
Paralyzed by our inheritance:
racial strife, homelessness,
fractured families and federal deficits.
Caught between a thong
and Depends.
Author notes
This isn't exactly a new poem. It is a heavily revised version of an old one.
A contest entry
- days of vinyl & flowers in your hair by Nicolette.
2200 points, ended October 12, 2008, 16 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
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Excellent thoughts
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Good poem!
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Didja ever notice all the non-conformists look the same?
Where were you when...
If we live long enough the times of our lives become the history of another generation, movies set in the days of our youth become period pieces and the concerns of today's young adults are the concerns of our children and grandchildren.
As I read your poem I am reminded of all the "boomer" e-mails about the times of our lives, and it is a little unnerving to see someone almost 20 years younger than I already reminiscing about things that seemed to have occurred only yesterday.
I guess the fewer memories we have, the more we are able to look forward to the future. At some point the balance begins to turn and we realize we have more past than we'll ever have future. Maybe we long for the past only because we miss the future.
This was an interesting walk through the last three decades, a walk much shorter than the length of the path.
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"Individuality was the new conformity."
loved that line. it says so much about "then" and "now", of the times you were born in versus the conformity and sense of belonging of earlier days. Wonderful reflective quality about this poem and great detail - it reads and flows like a story. Well, in some ways it is a story - the story of a life/lives.
Like you, I often feel that I was born too late too, and I felt that nostalgia or longing here in this poem. So much to love about this poem and all that it highlights and embraces. Almost a "deep sigh" poem which of course, fits this contest so very well.
Thank you for sharing this with us in the contest.
~ Nicolette
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TV dinners. lol. i had forgotten about those. perhaps justifiably so.
"i like the enchiladas and the teryaki too, i even like the chicken if the sauce is not too blue..."
'Baby Busters'...i like that.
"who ya gonna call...?"
lots of sad stuff in this piece...it's a miracle a lot of grew up somewhat sane. lol.
i forget who said it, but he said: look around at the kids these days. they're gonna be taking care of us when we're too old to do it ourselves.
that's enough to make the hair jump right off your head. lol
thanks muchly for entering this
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A superb reflection, Danna. I really like how you presented this. Another drop of regret for entering... but at least I got to read this
thank you for sharing, and good luck. -
This is a superb stroll through memory lane. Life, as I know it, is not an absolute thing. The only thing that survives is chaos. God bless you, Danna. you handled the madness of Life extremely well, juxtoposing the dates
with the famous names and the not so famous as well. GREAT JOB - ocerus
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excellent~
Very emotive....
A reflection of the time...this bought back so many memories...and yet made me think what of the future as well
Just excellent sweetie
Best of luck in the contest
This one is a winner in my book
Hugs
Susan~~~
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I knew this one was for this contest...lol.
I LOVE it...what a very powerful poem, great free-verse rhythm with so many excellent lines I won't even bother to quote one. I enjoyed this read immensely and relate to so much of it. thank you for the pleasure of reading this
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This is so strong. I am reminded of talks with my nieces, and our flailing to find common ground. 'paralyzed by our inheritance' is a killer line, and the whole poem has me reliving the 70s and 80s from a different perspective. Wonderful links to the times - television and Tang, Brady Bunch, 'lost somewhere between Kent State and Columbine'.
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