HOW DID WE GET HERE?

I grew up in the generation of “Aquarius” as the first generation who dared to break the rules by openly living with our girl/boy friends while thumbing our noses at “the establishment” and our parents, who more often than not were totally embarrassed, and lectured us no end about how we were going to perish in hell and be banished by “the church” and oh dear Lord! “I hope your Grandmother never finds out” guilt trips.

Actually, I’m not so certain this section of the country experienced this as much as other parts of the country, at least not at the same time. I didn’t move into the Midwest until 1972. But in much of the south, east and west coastal areas, college students were already rebelling against all they were taught to believe as being “appropriate” and socially acceptable behaviors and thinking. Much of it began with the civil rights movement – and obviously given that much of this part of the world was still 99.9 percent white, from what I’ve learned from those who did grow up here, life was still fairly uncomplicated in the Dakotas and much of western and central Minnesota into the late 1960’s. The “boundaries” for what was decidedly “appropriate and acceptable conduct” were still clearly defined. However, in many other areas, particularly metropolitan areas such as Chicago, New York, Atlanta, New Orleans, Phoenix, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Detroit, Portland, Seattle – the Vietnam war became a battle in the streets and in many family homes within the United States while we were still fighting in Asia. Many families were literally torn to shreds over it. Angela Davis and the Black Panthers were names as familiar in many cities as any regular household name. Street drugs had filtered down to average middle class families who learned their teenagers and twenty-somethings were shooting heroin and dropping acid, often to be found dead somewhere because the heroin shooters began overdosing and literally died with the rubber tourniquets still attached, and the acid droppers jumped out of fifteen-story windows believing they could fly.

These were common and daily occurrences in many of the larger cities and towns all across America. Somehow, we as a country managed to pull out of it and move on to the next crisis as a society. I believe we were able to do that because even with all that was happening, we still believed in our government. More to the point – we believed in the leaders we had elected to run our government. We still believed that those men and women (few as there were during those years) were able to keep us safe from foreign invaders, economic melt downs, and outrageous taxation from every entity of government; that AFFORDABLE medical care was available to most; and more importantly, we still believed the majority of us had at least the possibility of going up as far as the sky if we kept our noses clean and our shoulders to the grind- stone and were willing to work as long as it might take to get wherever we wanted to go. Retirement was still the “golden time,” and once the age of 50–55 was achieved, the “count-down” to the age of 62 or 65 was actually something to be celebrated. Finally, there’d be time to sit down and take a deep breath while watching our grandchildren grow into the men and women who would eventually take the reins and their places in history to run companies and corporations, become leaders within their communities, and direct where our future generations would take us. Retirement would be the only time in most of our lives when we would be able to welcome each day without worrying about how to handle the rest of the day, or rushing to meet a deadline that was already past, or to make that one last sale for the much-needed bonus to pay off the loan we needed to get the kid through his or her last semester of college. Retirement. The “circle of life.” Where the one end meets the other end. The last few years of life to savor and enjoy before the lid was closed and our boxed remains hit the dirt.

For me and my generational cohorts who are the last of the “boomers” born from 1954 until 1964 – and there’s a passel of us, since nearly four million were born every year in that 10-year time frame – far too many of us have no such dream. The “Golden Age” of retirement is simply not going to happen.

Did we expect too much? We played, went to college or off to war and survived, got married, bought homes, raised families, sent them off to college, gave them weddings, and now watch as they begin their own “circle of life” to live and celebrate.

The “circle of life” translated in many languages essentially means the beginning, middle and end. I’m not quite to the ending point of my circle, contrary to the wrinkles in my face; I have a few years left. And before I get there, I’d like to savor the last smidgen of my circle before the two ends meet.

Do I expect to be able to completely retire? No, probably not. But I sure would like to know that if I break my leg, no one is going to shoot me for going lame.

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