The gloom factor

I am a baby-boomer. Our cohort has been variously described, but no one has yet given us this ancillary label which I do believe is apt: we are a generation of baby-anti-gloomers.

Are we unique in this way? Oh yes. I cannot even recall how many boomers have told me of parents who spread the message of anti-joy. What was it with that generation? Why does it want to instill caution in us, to the point where it seems that’s all it wants to instill? Be careful, don’t be happy! Sacrifice, don’t seek pleasure! Your body will age, your mind will atrophy! We are not happy in our lives, they tell us again and again, and neither should you expect to be, you naïve and innocent young one (this said to an almost 52-year old?), just you wait.

And so we rebel. I was pedaling away at the gym with a friend at dawn today (fighting atrophy?). She is my age. What struck me was how sensibly cheerful she was in her reactions to my stories, and how much she believed that her own (grown) children should be able to search for the joy that she herself routinely finds. The woman is so damn happy, even at the times when life (and a parent) presses her to be exactly the opposite.

I want several bumper stickers for my car: The pursuit of pleasure is not a sin. Those who find life fantastically rewarding are not, by definition, hurting others. Looking forward to better times is better than looking backward at bad times. And so on. The anti-gloomers are forging a quiet revolution, ripping to shreds the signposts of gloom. You’re welcome, you young ones after us. We blaze endless trails for you – know how lucky you are that this is one of them!