The Difference between Baby Boomers and Gen X
As soon as we were off the phone, my 15-year-old self announced to my parents: "She must be pregnant!! Or about to be pregnant! They said they'd never get married unless they had children!"
I mean, I didn't really care about the wedding thing. I knew it would be Californian and weird (it was) and that the food would be all-natural and kind of icky (it wasn't, but it was... different) and that I'd probably have to be separated from my boyfriend for a period of days - a thought too incomprehensible to imagine.
But I was oh-so-ready to be an aunt.
I really wanted the pitter patter of little feet about the family, and images of reading to little Judy or James on a swing seat on a summer's day. Never mind that we didn't have a swing seat, or even very many nice summer days in the heart of NYC, I just had this very English, strawberries and cream image of being an "Auntie".
But as it turned out, my sister was not preggers and I had to wait another 6 or 7 years for the blessed event (by which time I was far better prepared, in any case).
But here's where Baby Boomers and those "tweens" - not quite BBs and not quite X's - differ:
While my sister's wedding was very nice, in its own way, (we stood around in a circle and read poetry and danced to signify the circle of life or some such nonsense and had champagne and asparagus soup and strawberries and the guests wore vintage clothes out of thrift shops and my sister decided what to wear from three cast-off outfits at the last minute) it seemed more of an after thought.
Rather than taking a honeymoon, my sister had a job interview the next morning. She thought she'd show her extreme dedication by doing that. What she showed, in reality, was slightly unbalanced mental health, and since it was a mental health job, she was politely turned down.
The best man wore a magician's hat and cape.
My sister and BIL made no changes in their lives. They were married. They'd been living together. End of story.
My sister was determined to show that a piece of paper, ultimately, didn't matter. And since she remained with my BIL for over 25 years until death did they part, she was probably right.
But when I got engaged...
I was so ready. I spent any spare cash I had on bridal magazines. I blew my paper on John Dewey, for my advisor no less, due to daydreaming about color schemes and guest lists.
This was not about a piece of paper. I was demonstrating to the world that I could have it all - graduate degrees and babies. And I hadn't passed my expiration date. And of course, I'd have babies, too. Lots of them! The world was my oyster.
But of course, nobody can have it all. Not without a nervous breakdown. And I'm not making a disparaging comment about career moms - either those working outside the home, or those working with their children as their career, but I simply mean that making any of those choices requires sacrifice and hard work and the more things you pile on top of each other, the fewer things you get to enjoy fully.
So, no, I chose Fantasy Boy rather than my doctorate. I was home with him as soon as I was able to be. And my sister chose to stay home with my nephew. And I don't think that either of us had any regrets.
And so maybe the differences between the generations blur, once the common denominator of plain old "growing up" sets the pace.
What's Cooking
I think I'm going to make the old cheeseburger meatloaf again. It's become a hit. I may make some applesauce to go with it. Or bread. I'm in a creating mood today and hope to spend lots of time both with words and with food.
