The Boomer Vanguard
Originally written Five years after I turned Fifty
I always thought I was a Boomer. My mother told me I was. Imagine my surprise one New Year's Eve when I heard from the media wonks that the first boomers would turn 50 January 1.
But I'd already done that. And therein lies the point.
We were the Boomer Vanguard, my contemporaries and I. Born in the fall of '42 - a direct result of Pearl Harbor. We were the babies born because Daddy was going off to war and didn't know if he'd be back. We were his attempt at immortality.
The Boomers got it all, new schools, new rules, a level playing field - the Vanguard just had the growing pains.
Remember schools on split session? While the bureaucrats figured out that maybe there should be more or larger buildings to hold this wave of children coming at them like a tsunami, we got stuck doubling up. Half of us went to school from 7:30 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. and the other half from 10:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. The late group started while the early group was at lunch so the classrooms were empty. I did that for years. I thought nothing of it. It was the way school was. When I was a Senior in High School, I graduated from a brand spanking new building. No overcrowding for the Boomers - the real Boomers - not those of us in the Vanguard.
When I started to work, I bumped into sexual harassment. Of course it wasn't called that then. Suddenly, my sisters and I (and I didn't know yet that they were my sisters either) were entering the business world in large numbers. We were moving up. Being secretaries wasn't enough for us. We worked as hard as we could because the glass ceiling hadn't been invented yet. We actually thought be could get to the top. So we were harassed. We didn't talk about it, any more than women talked about rape. If your boss felt he could put his hands wherever he liked you figured you were sending out the wrong signals and you put up with it or changed jobs.
Rumblings began. The women who are historically thought of as founders of the feminist movement were more my age - some older - Betty Friedan, Gloria Steinham, Bella Abzug. We made the noises. We started to complain. We started to get the rules changed. But, it turns out, we weren't official Boomers. Just the Vanguard.
When I left my husband and had to support my kids I had no company day-care. I knew their dad was a deadbeat but deadbeat dads weren't officially designated. The government didn't want to hear my sad story. If I couldn't get money out of the guy to support his kids, maybe I should just get married again. The courts cited him for contempt. They would send me copies of the citations. I had enough to paper a room.
Eventually some of us in the same predicament found each other (there was no net to surf - things took longer). Usually while picking our kids up from the Y at 6:00 p.m., looking harried, having come from a long day at work, fighting the subway at rush hour and trying to figure out how to get the kids home, cook dinner, study for that course that was going to make life oh so much better, and bake that cake that you were just informed was a necessity for the first grade bake sale tomorrow. Yes, we could spot each other. At first we just nodded. It took a while before we said hello - then exchanged a few words - then names and phone numbers.
These days women can look in the paper and find support groups for everything all set up. Just drop in, have a cup of coffee and tell us what's bothering you. The Vanguard made that possible.
Now it's health care - but don't get me started. The Boomers are determined to live forever and have someone else pay. They will achieve at least part of this aim. Those of us in the Vanguard are working out the kinks right now. We had children with no child care leave. We took care of elderly parents with no paid leave for that and very little choice in terms of nursing homes that didn't make us shrivel with guilt. You name it, been there - done that.
And every day brings a new challenge. How about starting over in a new career at entry level at the time the world told you you would be retiring to the good life?
Being there. Doing that.
Originally written Five years after I turned Fifty
I always thought I was a Boomer. My mother told me I was. Imagine my surprise one New Year's Eve when I heard from the media wonks that the first boomers would turn 50 January 1.
But I'd already done that. And therein lies the point.
We were the Boomer Vanguard, my contemporaries and I. Born in the fall of '42 - a direct result of Pearl Harbor. We were the babies born because Daddy was going off to war and didn't know if he'd be back. We were his attempt at immortality.
The Boomers got it all, new schools, new rules, a level playing field - the Vanguard just had the growing pains.
Remember schools on split session? While the bureaucrats figured out that maybe there should be more or larger buildings to hold this wave of children coming at them like a tsunami, we got stuck doubling up. Half of us went to school from 7:30 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. and the other half from 10:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. The late group started while the early group was at lunch so the classrooms were empty. I did that for years. I thought nothing of it. It was the way school was. When I was a Senior in High School, I graduated from a brand spanking new building. No overcrowding for the Boomers - the real Boomers - not those of us in the Vanguard.
When I started to work, I bumped into sexual harassment. Of course it wasn't called that then. Suddenly, my sisters and I (and I didn't know yet that they were my sisters either) were entering the business world in large numbers. We were moving up. Being secretaries wasn't enough for us. We worked as hard as we could because the glass ceiling hadn't been invented yet. We actually thought be could get to the top. So we were harassed. We didn't talk about it, any more than women talked about rape. If your boss felt he could put his hands wherever he liked you figured you were sending out the wrong signals and you put up with it or changed jobs.
Rumblings began. The women who are historically thought of as founders of the feminist movement were more my age - some older - Betty Friedan, Gloria Steinham, Bella Abzug. We made the noises. We started to complain. We started to get the rules changed. But, it turns out, we weren't official Boomers. Just the Vanguard.
When I left my husband and had to support my kids I had no company day-care. I knew their dad was a deadbeat but deadbeat dads weren't officially designated. The government didn't want to hear my sad story. If I couldn't get money out of the guy to support his kids, maybe I should just get married again. The courts cited him for contempt. They would send me copies of the citations. I had enough to paper a room.
Eventually some of us in the same predicament found each other (there was no net to surf - things took longer). Usually while picking our kids up from the Y at 6:00 p.m., looking harried, having come from a long day at work, fighting the subway at rush hour and trying to figure out how to get the kids home, cook dinner, study for that course that was going to make life oh so much better, and bake that cake that you were just informed was a necessity for the first grade bake sale tomorrow. Yes, we could spot each other. At first we just nodded. It took a while before we said hello - then exchanged a few words - then names and phone numbers.
These days women can look in the paper and find support groups for everything all set up. Just drop in, have a cup of coffee and tell us what's bothering you. The Vanguard made that possible.
Now it's health care - but don't get me started. The Boomers are determined to live forever and have someone else pay. They will achieve at least part of this aim. Those of us in the Vanguard are working out the kinks right now. We had children with no child care leave. We took care of elderly parents with no paid leave for that and very little choice in terms of nursing homes that didn't make us shrivel with guilt. You name it, been there - done that.
And every day brings a new challenge. How about starting over in a new career at entry level at the time the world told you you would be retiring to the good life?
Being there. Doing that.
