Culture Gaps

Mine was the first generation when it became in vogue to talk about the generation gap. There were many glaring differences between the world I experienced and the world of my father’s growing up years.

His childhood was much like his father’s childhood. He was raised on a farm in a large family. At an early age he joined the family workforce taking care of the farm and helping feed and clothe the family. He did chores much like his father had: milked cows; fed pigs; planted corn; hoed and cared for the crops; mowed hay; helped in the harvest; hunted for fun and profit and to help feed the family. He walked most places he went. (Including school, uphill both ways in a constant snowstorm. J At least that is the story as I remember it.) His closest friends were brothers, sisters and cousins. He attended the same small school his father had. They attended the same church all their relatives attended. They listened to and sang the same music. There just wasn’t much difference.

Then my generation showed up. We lived mainly in the city and suburbs. We had chores but they were basically busy work that had little bearing on the family’s economy. We went to shiny new schools built just for us. We attended a church that was new to all of us. The first time I watched television was the first time my parents watched television. And our music was different. Boy was it different. My dad and my mother grew up listening to big band music and some country music. We listened to the earliest unsettling sounds of a new thing called Rock and Roll. We didn’t wear hats and my dad did. We didn’t get haircuts every two weeks and it grew over our collars. We wore blue jeans, t-shirts and sneakers to school. We often failed to respect our elders and authority figures of any type. We were different and that difference was called the Generation Gap.

Now society moves and changes at a much faster pace. My grandchildren can’t imagine a time without cell phones and iPods. They don’t know what a boom box is and couldn’t tell the difference between a telephone booth and a refrigerator box. I may as well be from another planet when I speak of rotary dial phones, party lines and long distance operators. They think I am kidding when I talk about black and white TV with three channels and no remote control. Get up and change the channel every time? No way! I knew life before: the internet; texting; Skype, tattoos on people other than sailors and convicts; shrapnel was a fashion statement. I remember when girls wore girdles to hold in the extra instead of midriff shirts with their bellies hanging out. I could use a hula hoop and handle a shotgun. I went places without my parents. (And had a good time there.) The first car I drove had a clutch and a dimmer switch on the floor. A friend with benefits was the rich kid who bought me candy at the movie.

I realize life is moving fast. But I was floored when, in a discussion about future sermons series, we talked about being on a mission for God and someone suggested we dress up like the Blues Brother and another colleague asked, “Who are the Blues Brothers?” This was an educated person, of age, and should have known better. Never seen a typewriter – I can live with that. Don’t know how to drive a straight stick – okay. Don’t know who the Blues Brothers are – something is really wrong here. That is more than a culture gap. It is just wrong.

Copyright © 2013, William T. McConnell, All Rights Reserved