The eye of the be-older

Boomer Musings

By J. Leslie Riseden

Okay, yes, I admit it. When I’m in a doctor’s office, or waiting to get my hair cut, I might pick up the latest issue of People magazine. About every other month or so, I find myself thumbing through the latest issue (which, often as not, is from May of the previous year.) Years ago, I even subscribed to People, and indulged my guilty pleasure of seeing what the rich and famous were up to lately. But, in recent years, I’ve noticed something that didn’t used to happen: I don’t know who these people are.

Page after glossy page serves up a parade of studs and starlets at awards shows, galas and banquets. Stars of stage and screen share photos of their children, their pets and their pied a terre. Grainy photos from a football field away reveal an illicit rendezvous, topless sunbathing or a glamorous megastar caught in a not-so-glamorous trip to Costco. But none of their names are familiar to me. I usually end up scanning the Table of Contents for a “Where are they now?” article, or a feature story with a title like “60 is the new 40” or “Fabulous at 50” just so I can read about someone I actually recognize. Am I the only one? Am I that removed from what’s hot and hip? Does anyone even say “hip” anymore?

Current TV shows seem to be full of young people (really young – I mean like went-to-schoolwith- my-grandchildren young), and they’re all struggling. Struggling to fit in at school, struggling to succeed in the hightech industry, struggling to stay awake at the end of a 36-hour shift in the ER. Oh, sure, the hotties and heart-throbs of our generation make cameo appearances -- usually as someone’s father, grandmother or crazy old neighbor. Or, they’re doing commercials … Little Marie Osmond lost 50 pounds. Susan Sarandon is “worth it.” Magnum PI and The Fonz are hawking reverse mortgages. Whaaaaaaat?

I’m quite sure that the teens and twentysomethings of today can listen to music and tell you who the artist is, but I swear, they all look and sound alike to me. Maybe they just haven’t found their unique style yet. Also, it seems no matter what the genre, they repeat the same line over and over and over again. (Billy Joel, write us another song, please.) It seems like these young male country singers all have names that sound like two first names, and I just can’t tell one from the other. And, they walk out on stage looking like they just came in from cutting the grass. I’m not saying they have to dress like Porter or Elvis, but maybe they could move the needle a little closer to Brooks and Strait, and a little further from Briggs & Stratton.

(Uh-oh... I think I just turned into my mother a little.)

Did our parents feel the same way about Sinatra, Bogart and Bacall when we were screaming and fainting over the Beatles, Tom Jones and Robert Redford? Does every generation think their children’s music is inane and monotonous and utterly devoid of true talent? Are we the last generation to produce films with genuine drama, mystery and romance? Hmm, let’s see: Our parents had September Song, In the Mood and Autumn Leaves; we came up with One-eyed One-horned Flying Purple People- Eater, Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini and Alley Oop. Our parents’ generation gave us Citizen Kane, On the Waterfront and Casablanca; we produced Beach Blanket Bingo, The Flying Nun and a plethora of really bad Elvis movies. Oh, yeah, the youth of today will never live up to our legacy.