July 23, 2014 at 2:10 p.m.
A milestone for the demographic
Back in the Saddle
“Well, it’s happened,” my wife said one recent morning at breakfast. “Take a look. I don’t know any of these people. Do you?”
I didn’t.
And that morning, we knew a tipping point had been reached.
For years, we’d both made note of the little benchmarks, the little milestones that let us know we’re getting older.
You know what I’m talking about.
Things like:
• The moment you realize you not only can’t name the number one song on the pop charts but can’t remember the last time you looked at the pop charts.
• That puzzling moment when you look quizzically at your spouse after a television commercial and ask, “What the heck was that about?” (Your children or grandchildren will later explain that you are no longer “the target demographic.”)
•When you realize that the time it takes you to recall a name is growing longer and longer.
•The awkward instant when you make mention in conversation at work about some pivotal moment in what your consider to be recent history only to learn that the rest of the people in the conversation were in pre-school at the time. Or worse yet — hadn’t been born. JFK’s assassination? Neil Armstrong’s walk on the moon? The fall of the Berlin Wall? These events, still burned in memory, are ancient history to young people. About a year ago, I spoke on a college campus and had to explain to students what the Soviet Union and the Cold War were all about.
You know what I’m talking about.
At our house, my wife and I have always used a highly unsophisticated measurement that would let us know when we were truly getting old, when we were no longer in touch but out of touch.
Our tool was the Fort Wayne morning paper, which has a daily feature listing notable people born on that particular day.
Some are celebrities (Does America really need that many actors?), some are political figures, some are sports heroes.
When we check the list, our hope is that, of the six or eight names, we’ll know who at least one of these people is. That will assure us that we’re not completely clueless and ready to clock out but still have a few miles ahead.
Often, checking the list is a little sad. It’s depressing to find out that the young rocker whose albums you bought back in high school is now 68.
And we’ve learned to appreciate celebrity longevity. A guy like Michael Caine, who apparently plans to live forever, can brighten a morning when he celebrates his 90th or 100th or whatever birthday.
But the goal, always, is to recognize some personage from pop culture who happens to be marking a birthday.
And so, it was a sad morning last week when my wife said, “Well, it’s happened.”
As she handed me the paper, I hoped in vain that I’d come up with a glimmer of recognition.
Not a chance. I too struck out.
Who were these people? How did they become famous? And why the heck hadn’t either of us heard of them? It couldn’t be because we were “no longer the target demographic,” could it?
Or could it?[[In-content Ad]]
I didn’t.
And that morning, we knew a tipping point had been reached.
For years, we’d both made note of the little benchmarks, the little milestones that let us know we’re getting older.
You know what I’m talking about.
Things like:
• The moment you realize you not only can’t name the number one song on the pop charts but can’t remember the last time you looked at the pop charts.
• That puzzling moment when you look quizzically at your spouse after a television commercial and ask, “What the heck was that about?” (Your children or grandchildren will later explain that you are no longer “the target demographic.”)
•When you realize that the time it takes you to recall a name is growing longer and longer.
•The awkward instant when you make mention in conversation at work about some pivotal moment in what your consider to be recent history only to learn that the rest of the people in the conversation were in pre-school at the time. Or worse yet — hadn’t been born. JFK’s assassination? Neil Armstrong’s walk on the moon? The fall of the Berlin Wall? These events, still burned in memory, are ancient history to young people. About a year ago, I spoke on a college campus and had to explain to students what the Soviet Union and the Cold War were all about.
You know what I’m talking about.
At our house, my wife and I have always used a highly unsophisticated measurement that would let us know when we were truly getting old, when we were no longer in touch but out of touch.
Our tool was the Fort Wayne morning paper, which has a daily feature listing notable people born on that particular day.
Some are celebrities (Does America really need that many actors?), some are political figures, some are sports heroes.
When we check the list, our hope is that, of the six or eight names, we’ll know who at least one of these people is. That will assure us that we’re not completely clueless and ready to clock out but still have a few miles ahead.
Often, checking the list is a little sad. It’s depressing to find out that the young rocker whose albums you bought back in high school is now 68.
And we’ve learned to appreciate celebrity longevity. A guy like Michael Caine, who apparently plans to live forever, can brighten a morning when he celebrates his 90th or 100th or whatever birthday.
But the goal, always, is to recognize some personage from pop culture who happens to be marking a birthday.
And so, it was a sad morning last week when my wife said, “Well, it’s happened.”
As she handed me the paper, I hoped in vain that I’d come up with a glimmer of recognition.
Not a chance. I too struck out.
Who were these people? How did they become famous? And why the heck hadn’t either of us heard of them? It couldn’t be because we were “no longer the target demographic,” could it?
Or could it?[[In-content Ad]]
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