I will hit the Big Seven Oh in a few weeks, and there are things I need to get off my chest about that – all one-and-one/half boobs of it.
I realize that many “young” people blame my generation for all their problems. Well, guess what. Some of my generation is responsible for all of my problems, as well. Join the crowd.
Yes. There are wealthy, greedy, self-absorbed people from my generation who have created an immense financial divide. Mostly white. Mostly male. It’s not that they hate you because you are young. They disregard all of us because we are…not them. Rich idiots are alive and well in all generations.
You’ve been priced out of the housing market? So have I. No fancy vacations? Me, neither. Grocery shopping with coupons and sales and out-dated products? Ditto. Can’t pay off your student loans? Sorry. With Social Security and Medicare under constant attack, we have no way to help.
I am cranky because I am tired. My generation protested and/or fought the war in Vietnam. Died in battle; some in protests (google Kent State). Eventually ended that war, and the Nixon Presidency. Similar protests for civil rights. We were the first to take birth control pills…first to have legal abortions. Burned our bras. Fought for women’s right to credit in their own names…for admission to formerly all-male schools and professions. You know why we are called “Boomers”? Because our heads go BOOM when we realize we have to fight for this same damn stuff, all over again, for our grandchildren. Grandchildren who, by the way, some of us are now raising for some of you…when we though we were beyond all that.
I’m sorry for all of us.
But I’m not going to take the blame. Hillary wasn’t my favorite candidate, either. But I neither stayed home nor cast a protest vote, thereby electing Trump. When I was your age, I couldn’t vote for my favorite candidate, either. Because he was assassinated (google Bobby Kennedy).
My “golden years” retirement funds have been decimated by keeping a small business running – and staff employed – during Bush II’s recession. And – unlike you – I have no time to rebuild a 401k. My husband, at 70 and sick, has to keep working because we, too, pay the price for your generations inability to purchase his business. The consequence of the predatory student loans you will never pay off. In the meantime, we must sell our home and find something we may be able to afford. Not likely.
I don’t ask for your sympathy. I ask that, when you see me wearing mixed prints…high-top sneakers…and pink hair…you not roll your eyes. It’s about the only enjoyment I get now.
We are, after all, in this together.