Too Old to be Generation X… Too Young to Be a Baby Boomer… Call Me a BoXer…

I don’t care what the cutoff date is, I’ve never felt like a Baby Boomer. I went to college late in life, surrounded by Generation X. They were younger, but they were my peers. Nonetheless, I wasn’t part of that classification, so I’ve decided to take it upon myself and create a new group. I’m going to call them BoXers. Boomers with an X. Here is a little criterion for being a BoXer:

You feel a generation gap between yourself and Baby Boomers.

You relate to both Generation X and Baby Boomer culture and music.

You panic when someone asks you to go in-depth about the politics of Vietnam. Watergate makes you waffle too.

You feel like a little kid around Boomers. They can be intimidating, especially if they ask what YOU were up to during the sixties. They’re proud of what they did. And should be.

In 1965, you stood in front of the dime store with a furry coat, tight, TIGHT pants and a rat-tailed comb sticking out of your back pocket.

You know what the Bump and the Hustle are, and you were a BG’s fan.

Your place in history is not behind the millions of Boomers, it’s at the beginning of another era. An era in which we embraced nature. Even hugged trees. Literally. We became vegetarians when no restaurants provided meat-free alternatives. We watched people die of AIDS. We stared at the TV when David Bowie did weird things on MTV and if we were lucky enough to afford a ticket to see the Rolling Stones, we watched Mick Jagger ride on a giant inflatable penis. We were children when JFK died, I remember, but I remember that I didn’t understand. We watched as colored people became Blacks who fought for their rightful place in American society. While Black musicians provided us with the best music to dance to. Ever.

I will never be a Baby Boomer. I have friends who feel the same way. And I cannot for the life of me, understand how such a cool, intelligent, fighting force of young people, allowed themselves to be called Baby Boomers. Perhaps the time has come for them to revolt against that title. Because as we all know, these were the young people who were excellent at revolution. I see them all the time. Still leading the way. I tip my hat to them. Better yet, I take it off and wave it. They knew how to create excitement and make change. They deserve a more dignified title. They are no longer babies. They never were.

Suellen Ocean is the author of Chimney Fire. Available here: https://www.amazon.com//dp/B00XDCPLEW

 

A House, a Hound, a Horse and a Husband… Not Necessarily in That Order

Anyone who has owned a horse knows that they are a lot of work. Ditto with the hound and the house. Anyone who has ever had a significant other knows that relationships take a lot of time and caring. The more time and care you put into it, the better the relationship usually is.  This post has no intention other than to acknowledge those who sweep, shovel, sew, iron, rake, mow, boil or bake. Which is most everybody. We all have chores. Whoever you are, guy or gal, today I acknowledge you. I just spent a good hour raking horse manure in 92 degrees. Yes, in the hot sun. I don’t like doing it but I like it that I can. Even the worst of chores have something for which we can be thankful.

Suellen Ocean is the author of many books on diverse topics. Her books are available here: http://www.amazon.com/Suellen-Ocean/e/B001KC7Z78

How Cool is this? A Children’s Summer Camp… in French

One of the most pleasant memories of my Southern vacation was a visit to Vermilionville, a Cajun village where the lives of early settlers to Louisiana are recreated at the site of the original settlement. I came home with a dvd of Cajun music, a broader understanding of the Acadians and a link to their website. Every week, I receive an email about the events at the center. I love opening it because it brings me back to the peaceful summer day I spent at the village. Recently they posted a children’s summer camp where everyone speaks French. What a wonderful way to preserve Louisiana’s French culture. Keep the kids speaking the language of their ancestors.

The French got a raw deal when the English booted them out of Canada and renamed Acadia… Nova Scotia. The Acadians had a diaspora, some returned to Europe and many were unkindly transported to Haiti. The Acadians who wound up in Louisiana, are those whose lives are recreated at Vermilionville and their descendants are now sending their children to French summer camp. That’s tenacity. If you are interested in the summer camp, here’s their website:

http://www.bayouvermiliondistrict.org/summer-camp

Suellen Ocean is the author of many books on diverse topics. Her books are available here:  http://www.amazon.com/Suellen-Ocean/e/B001KC7Z78