Oh, My Creaking Bones

1972 was the first year I voted in a Presidential election. I voted for George McGovern that year because he said something I’ve never forgotten. He said he was “sick and tired of old men dreaming up wars in which young men do the dying.” That thought stuck with me for years and became a battle cry of my generation.

My generation is the baby boomer one. We are dreamers, movers and shakers. We are the ones in charges. We took power from the old, World War II generation that led us to the brink of atomic war and stepped away from that cliff. We made superfast computers, fast cars, cell phones that can fit in your pocket and can put you in contact with anyone in the world within seconds. If we could dream it, we could do it. There was no one more important to world history than us. Just ask us and we’ll tell you!

But a funny thing happened when we baby boomers weren’t looking.

We got old.

And it is no longer our world. Why? Because those of us born between 1946 and 1960 elected a man younger than us to the White House in November 2008. This group of baby boomers has never collectively voted for anyone younger than themselves until last November. The chances are unlikely that this generation will ever vote for anyone older than themselves again. The torch was passed in November and I just realized it today.

Now I do feel old.