Baby Boomer

As active baby boomers, we feel young … but how young do we have to look? Journalist Cindy La Ferle says, not nearly as young as parts of society demand! When she looks around, she sees Women of an Uncertain Age.

Lately, my fifty-something friends and I have been rehashing the time-worn topic of aging gracefully versus aging desperately.

Even in the scant-few women’s magazines geared to our demographic, “mature” fashion models appear to be surgically altered or botoxed, then dressed to look 35. The message? Aging is shameful. To be avoided at all costs. She who looks youngest wins.

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Most of the time, BoomerCafé focuses on what our generation is doing today. But Joanne Hague is focusing right now on what we did yesterday … or more to the point, forty years ago. She’s looking for help to mark a milestone that helped shape the leading edge of the baby boomer generation. She’s rediscovering the past, at Woodstock.

Undoubtedly, if I had been just a couple of years older in the summer of 1969, I would have found my way to Bethel, New York. Woodstock, one of the greatest events of all times, was happening a mere 60 miles from where I lived. I remember watching the news reports with my mom, and her being aghast at what we were seeing. But me, I wished I was there.

A few years later, I married. Had my children, had my life … and Woodstock was something that I never thought about after those days. Until 1994. That’s when my children and I attended a festival in Bethel, and I realized exactly where I was.

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Are the kids gone? Are you having fun without them? Don’t feel guilty; David James doesn’t. He says there’s life after kids, and you’re absolutely entitled to enjoy it!

When Veronica and I came up with the idea to write about living life after raising kids, and actually looking forward to it, one of the first things I did was Google “empty nesters.” I wanted to see if anyone was looking at this the same way we are. You know, isn’t it great that the kids have moved out and we have life to ourselves again?! To be untethered and free to wander the globe. To be Gypsy Nesters instead of empty nesters.

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Are you ready to get on with your life? Boomers generally are. And that includes boomer Rosanne Knorr. And we mean, your life; not your friends’, not your kids’. She writes about it in this excerpt from the introduction to her book, The Grown-up’s Guide to Running Away from Home.

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.
—Helen Keller

Long, long ago—before career ladders and children and homes with mortgages to be paid on a regular basis—I dreamed of sipping wine at a French café with a view of the Eiffel Tower or waking to the day in a whitewashed cottage on a Greek island. You can fill in your own dreams. We all have them.

But for most of us, the travel through life follows a practical path. As we reach middle age, it’s our children—the students in high school or college—who participate in a year abroad. We see them and say, “I wish I could have done that.” Then, one day, my husband and I asked, “Why can’t we do it now?”

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A common trait of many baby boomers is having grown up with a natural curiosity about our ethnic origins. Filmmaker Barry Levinson looked back at his family to make the poignant film, Avalon, about growing up in Baltimore. Now, NPR’s popular radio host Scott Simon, one of the nation’s more visible baby boomers, has written a new book - Windy City - inspired by his hometown, Chicago. Scott shares this excerpt with BoomerCafé:

Tuesday Night

The mayor was found shortly after eleven with his bronze, brooding face lying on the last two slices of a prosciutto and artichoke pizza, his head turned and his wide mouth gaping, as if gulping for a smashed brown bulb of garlic with life’s last breath. Blood from his gums had already seeped into the tomatoes, prosciutto, and caramelized onions. His blue oxford-cloth shirt was unbuttoned. His red tie had been slipped out of its knot and trailed forlornly from his collar. His heavy gray slacks were laid across the back of the sofa where he was sitting for his last meal, illumed by the cold glare of the television set.

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