It occurred to me the other day that I was invisible. Not just me, but my entire generation. It appears that we lack importance. I’m basing this rather sad conclusion on the fact that we have been entirely overlooked by the folks who bestow catchy cohort labels.
Let’s get specific. At the risk of revealing my true age, which most of you already know, I’m referring to those of us born before 1946 and after 1926. Admittedly, I have steel wool in my brain when it comes to math, but according to my calculations, we number almost 28 million (2010 U.S. census), and yet we go about our daily lives without a cultural tag. And personally, I’m feeling a bit resentful. What kind of legacy is this to leave to our children and grandchildren, otherwise known as the Xs and the Ys, and possibly the Zs?
Born too late to be World War II heroes, and too early to be a part of the post-war birth explosion, we have wound up sandwiched awkwardly between the Greatest Generation and the Baby Boomers. An entire generation without a context!