Because of the tremendous strides made by our boomer generation, some of us like where we’ve been better than where we’re going. Pamela Gayle Smith is one of them, and has written a poem about the lifespan of our generation. You’ll see yourself amongst the millions of boomers Born After the War –
Born after the war, a baby of the boom,
The last generation allowed to slowly bloom.
I had a stay-at-home Mom, there every day,
Homemade cookies, when I came in from play.
A hard working Dad, home every night,
After kissing Mom, he’d hug me tight.
Brothers and sisters soon came along,
We became a family, healthy and strong.
We girls played with dolls and made mud pies,
Then played cowboys and indians with the guys.
We had guns and arrows, rifles and spears,
They were all toys, not school yard fears.
We played outside late into the night,
Never did danger cause us to take flight.
We got in trouble daily, just because we were kids,
Sometimes we made the grown-ups really flip their lids.
If we didn’t do our chores or rode on someone’s grass,
If we called someone a name, our parents didn’t let it pass.
We were taught to behave and show proper respect,
If we didn’t, we were taught the meaning of “cause and effect.”
We were taught right from wrong at an early age,
It would be by our actions, that others would gauge.
Held responsible for the wrongs that we did,
Punishment was quick and designed for a kid.
I never knew a kid who was expelled from school,
Detention was embarrassing enough, you felt like a fool.
We went to sock hops and basketball games,
Knew everyone in our class by their first names.
Everything was either “cool or square,”
It was “groovy’ to get a milk shake and share.
Elvis, Pat Boone, Fabian and Sandra Dee,
They were in every movie we went to see.
At the drive-in and around the snack bar,
We knew who was in every single car.
Some kids would try to hide in the trunk,
If management caught them, they were sunk.
The jukebox played those forty-fives,
With our generation rock-n-roll thrives.
Six songs for a quarter, like “Jailhouse Rock,”
Or Bill Haley and the Comets “Rock Around the Clock.”
The Jitterbug, the Twist and the Jerk,
Some of these dances really made you work.
Panty hose, mini skirts and spike high heels,
Sideburns, engineer boots with taps of steel.
A car with white walls, a motor that roared,
No matter if it was a ’57 Chevy or ’56 Ford.
We went steady, wore their rings around our necks,
Giggled and whispered when we talked about sex.
We grew up, some got married, some moved away,
Others went away to war, what a price they had to pay.
They came home to wives and girlfriends they had left behind,
Found jobs, bought homes and headed into a world yet undefined.
Expecting a life much like our parents had,
Wanting just a little more than our Mom and Dad.
It all came so easy, we soon had too much,
It seemed as if our generation had the magic touch.
Our kids had it all, we had money to give,
As we pushed them ahead, live, live, live.
They played every day, but not out in the yard,
Organized sports they played, with a score card.
We had them joining this and joining that,
No evening free for “Hide and Seek” or Skat.
Did we do them a disservice, as they slowly grew away,
Depending on others to tell them how to play?
Every toy had a battery, they watched it do its thing,
Did we take away their imaginations, like a yo-yo with no string?
As I said at the beginning, we grew at our own pace,
Not rushed into a world we were not prepared to face.
Since we brag about our “Childhood Days” when everything was great,
How did we end up giving our kids a childhood that was really second
~ Pamela Gayle Smith