Here at BoomerCafé, we really enjoyed this piece when it came in. It made us smile. We hope it does the same thing for you. It’s from a baby boomer in Chesterfield, in the United Kingdom, named Linda Biggs, and what she writes about is something any of us could probably relate to: Railing and Rebelling.
Personally I can’t help thinking that the term “baby boomer” makes the result of our parents’ copulations seem like they fired us all out of cannons. BOOM!! And there we were, plunged into a world so different from that of our parents. It’s little wonder that the generation gap was wider in the following years — the ’60s, if you’re wondering — than at any other time.
Did you rail and rebel against the parents’ values and standards? I did. Not all the time of course, but even so, I did quite a bit. I was always a hot-head and struggled with respecting them in most things. I was mouthy as well. Oh Lord, was I mouthy! I wanted to be different. Didn’t want to listen to their music; they liked crooners. I wanted The Beatles. I didn’t want to be a clone of my mother. Her skirts were too long anyway. I wanted mine nearly up to my backside. “That’s tarty!” she cried. “It’s trendy!” I retaliated. I got my way.
I looked back at myself over the years, initially disliking that gobby (simplified translation for yankees: talkative … too talkative) little horror. Only after having my own children, now in their 30s themselves, and watching them go through similar rebellions, have I come to understand my parents and their values. I also have a greater understanding of me and mine too.
I’m 63 now and still rebellious but in a more understated way. Refusing to give in to advancing years and still not wanting to look like a version of my mother who, I hasten to add, was far more beautiful than I am. I have my own beauty but in different ways. I have more confidence to be myself; to age gracefully, and to grow older as disgracefully as I want to; and to take risks, even to shock should I choose.
As retirement looms, I try to find new things to do so that I’ve something to call on when I’m no longer at work. Skydiving was a great experience to try, though I can’t see myself making a hobby of it (due to the expense, not the danger). I tried crafting but was hopeless at it. Photography is my favorite hobby, one I’m actually good at, and one I share with a couple of friends.
Writing however, was my first love and that will stay with me until the last. There’s a book in me somewhere.