I'm a so-called "Elder Millennial." I grew up in the 1980s and I came of age in the mid-1990s when the last of the Millennials were born. However, when I talk to those generational contemporaries of mine who grew up in the 1990s, it seems like my childhood was closer to that of my parent's generation: The Baby Boomers who grew up in the 1950s.
Here are some experiences that illustrate the intra-generational divide that I feel:
I knew my great-grandfather until I was a teenager. He was born in the 1800s.
I have a sister who shared time on this Earth with Martin Luther King Jr.
I saw Ronald Reagan on the campaign trail when New Jersey was considered a "Red State." The Secret Service checked my diaper for weapons.
I learned to dial on a rotary phone and I memorized the phone numbers of friends and family before I knew how to write. I've used a "party line."
I resisted the urge to call 1-900 numbers, even though many of them were marketed to children. ("Hey kids, who wants to listen to Daffy Duck and Porky Pig?")
I operated a television for the first time using a wired remote control.
I found wheat pennies, Buffalo nickels and Mercury dimes in my change when I bought candy. Most candy bars cost $0.25 at that time; a Cow Tale cost $0.10.
I collected paper currencies from around the world via cereal box prizes.
I rode around town in the back of my father's pickup truck. If a police officer saw me, he'd wave.
I wasted my allowance on baseball cards. They cost $0.35 per pack.
I had a 19-inch TV in my room; it was the biggest TV in the house.
I resigned myself to never seeing an episode of a TV show that I missed on first broadcast. (In many cases, there wasn't a second opportunity.)
I typed my first school paper using a typewriter and I researched it using a card catalog. I was instructed to use two spaces after a period.
I played outside all day and I rode my bike around town, returning only for meals. If I found myself in a jam (e.g. with a flat bike tire and no money), I'd call my parents collect.
I bought $0.29 hamburgers at my neighborhood McDonald's (on Wednesdays).
I collected Marlboro packs from the gutters and I redeemed the UPCs (aka, "Marlboro Miles") for a mountain bike, a dart board, a Swiss-Army knife, and three diving watches.
I listened to music on records and cassette tapes. I made mix tapes using a double-deck radio.
I scavenged in convenience store dumpsters looking for unsold nudie-magazines that were mutilated and discarded (i.e. the covers were torn off).
I learned to cook on a gas stove and to sew on a Singer machine in a middle school "home economics" class. Boys and girls were partnered together.
I traveled to New York City with a friend when we were 12 years old. We galavanted around Manhattan with parental permission, but not supervision.
I connected to the Internet for the first time using a 14.4 Kbps modem. The time I spent online was billed by the minute.
I attended a high school with a wood shop and auto garage; neighboring schools in New Jersey still had rifle teams.
I drove 50 miles on my 17th birthday to the only DMV that was able to issue me a driver's license on that day. (Appointment times were in fierce competition amongst high schoolers.)
I bought my first DVD player for $700.
I studied at NYU film school and edited my 16mm films using razor blades, Scotch tape and a Steenbeck machine. Sound was captured on reel-to-reel tape.
I was a regular at Josie Woods' Pub where buffalo wings cost $0.10 during happy hour. A large meal with a pint of beer and a 25% tip on the table could be had for $5.
I purchased 30-packs of Coors Extra Gold for $8.99 in New Jersey. The commute between Manhattan and Harrison, NJ cost $2 round trip.
I earned $410 a week at my first full-time job.
I didn't own a cellphone until I was in my 20s.
I have never used a dating app. My wife and I met by chance in a public place.
I became a father before I became a smartphone owner.
The expression "may you live in interesting times" is regarded by some as a blessing and regarded by others as a curse. I feel like I've lived in such times, and for my part, most of it has been a blessing.
My childhood and adolescence was a happy one, notwithstanding the fact that it was during a time of overt racism, sexism, pollution and crime. I'd like to believe that I've grown to identify and reject such evils. Nevertheless, only the passage of time can clarify the evils of today.
I hope that future generations can take what is good from my generation and leave the rest. And I hope that I can embrace the positive contributions of younger generations while sharing my experience, strength, hope and perspective when the world seems crazy, as it often does.