You Again?

(No, rabbit ears are not a snack)
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It occurs to me lately that I’m part of a transitional generation … and I‘m taking up two seats.

I grew up in the sixties, and now I’m back. In the sixties. My sixties. Surely there’s some kind of “Rocky Horror” time warp coupon I can conjure up, if I dress weirdly enough.

Collectively, the sixty-plus million of us who grew up in the sixties are referred to as the “Baby Boomers,” as though we were toddlers that exploded. Mostly, though, we didn’t detonate — we survived, only to then have to live through disco. (We survived that, too.)

Baby Boomers made the word “cool” cool. Before the sixties, you couldn’t be cool; you had to be hep. Fortunately, we Boomers twisted hep into hip; otherwise, Woodstock would’ve been packed with damp, tie-dyed “heppies,” and rock ‘n roll might’ve died. In fact, lots of good music came out of the last half of the twentieth century (no, disco doesn’t make the cut).

Quite possibly, the way we listen to music has changed as much as anything else. In our generation, we’ve gone from reel-to-reel tapes, to albums, to eight-tracks, to cassettes, to CDs, to MP3s, to streaming. I suppose the next technological step might be Amazon offering direct-to-brain album implants, but based on some people I’ve met, a brain implant presents a tactical problem. You’ve met them, too. Some of them, we’ve voted for.

Like any generation, ours has seen things come (the internet, Uber, belly fat), and seen things go (memory, hair, funny episodes of Saturday Night Live). And we’ve seen things go up … in 1965, a gallon of gasoline cost 30 cents. Today, “gasoline” is a four-letter word.

But the Boomers had their tough times, too. Today’s younger generations might not believe me, but once upon a time, if you wanted to change the TV channel, you had to actually stand up and walk to the television. Of course, you didn’t have to stand up very often … there were only three channels to choose from. “Cable” was just a kind of sweater. And “binging” was something fat people did. Back then, if you wanted to watch all ten seasons of Friends, it would take you ten years.

Home life, and life in general, was quite different in the sixties. Everybody smoked, everywhere, including in bed, in the ER, and underwater. A popular home décor choice was “shag” carpeting (shag, from an ancient Persian word meaning ugly). There were no microwave ovens, so cooking took longer, and grumpy husbands coming home from the office might have to wait thirty minutes or more before barking, “Where’s dinner?”

Since there was no cable yet, TVs depended on antennas to receive any shows at all. Often, the antenna came in the form of “rabbit ears,” a moody pair of metal straws sitting on top of the TV that, when perfectly adjusted, would provide a clear picture for as long as three minutes before needing readjusting. According to one study, 25% of parents in the sixties admitted that they only had children so there’d be somebody around to adjust the antenna.

Houses had a “living room,” and if a kid ever dared to step into that off-limits space, they would be summarily dismembered. (There was a similar personal injury risk involving something known as “the guest towels.”) Kids weren’t driven to pre-scheduled play dates; they were told to “go outside.” And, for a kid, the six most terrifying words in the English language were, “Wait till your father gets home!”

For years, people in a family actually shared a phone. As incomes rose, a house might purchase more than one, but they all had some common characteristics that would seem bizarre to today’s world. For the longest time, all phones were connected to a cord and sat on a table, or hung from a kitchen or hallway wall. No, really. The upside to all that medieval circumstance is that it was impossible to accidentally drop your phone in the toilet – the cord wouldn’t reach that far.

There were no girls in my family – and even if there had been, my parents would’ve never let me near them — but I’ve seen pictures, and some young girls in the sixties dreamed of having their very own “princess phone.” Today, “princess” is a four-letter word … or, for all I know, a provisional gender decision.

Needless to say, there were no “smart” devices yet, phones or otherwise. Back in “the day,” if you wanted to know the time, you had to strap a clock to your wrist. And if the clock talked to you, you were having a psychotic episode.

So, the next time you’re feeling blue, just remember: you may be in “facebook jail,” but at least you’re not in “living room restriction.”

One more: here’s a partial list of things only you Boomers will remember: