Am I The Minority?
As a Gen-Xer raised by Boomers, I wasn't coddled. My parents were 21 and 23 years old when I was born, they were kids themselves. They survived the Vietnam era. My dad served, my mom was a military wife. I was born on an army base in Louisiana, 976 miles from their suburban Chicago home. They were six ways from confused, unexperienced, scared and pissed. Life in my formative years included drinking from the hose, riding your secondhand Huffy without a helmet, be home by dusk, don't talk to Stranger Danger, do your homework and leave the adults alone while they played their game of Bridge as they drank their Amaretto and Cokes, yet still sit by the TV to manually change the channel at the same time you're trying to record your favorite Adam Ant song from the radio without capturing the DJ's voice. Dinner was served at the same time every day, and if you didn't eat what was served, you didn't eat. There were no special orders or snacking afterwards. Take out or ...