David Williams

Culture Shock

I am taken recently with the concept of culture shock. Perhaps this subject intrigues me because I am getting older and have not really noticed it until recently.
I have noticed a few facial changes lately. As I shave or brush my teeth, I see more gray and silver in my hair than I last recall being intertwined through my auburn locks; the slow slide of toned facial area that now seems to be crawling down my cheeks and gathering below my chin; the slow folds of eyelid that are gradually weighing down on my eyes like snow on a tree bough.
There are physical activities that are passing out of my life, like riding a bike or playing pickup basketball for the fun of it.
These days, as I wheeze and gasp through a mile and a half of running — or what I do that passes for running — I can remember the days when a younger Air Force veteran would knock out a mile and a half in under nine minutes and stand at the finish line, jogging in place and yelling encouragement at my squadron mates as they finished.
Who was that skinny kid, anyway? Yes, it was me, but that was a different me, at least physically.
Back then, I really didn’t think of myself as a prime physical specimen, and I really wasn’t. But that guy was miles better off than the slightly overweight, slightly graying, slightly balding man that now stands before you, wrapped up in the throes of middle age.
Some of my body parts hurt now, and for no reason — and that is only going to get worse.
I find myself getting up to go do something, and forgetting what it was before I arrive to do it. I just hope I was not on my way to the bathroom.
And speaking of that room, I have discovered that middle age gives you a whole new appreciation for the room of rest – and the odd times of the night you now go in there to avail yourself of its functions.
My dog usually wakes me up about 5 a.m. or so to go out. I used to think she was just being cruel, and committing a perverse reversal of the old canine adage about letting sleeping people lie. But it just could be that her love and loyalty for her master is so deep that she wakes me up to ensure I won’t do something while asleep that I haven’t done since the diaper days.
If she is that smart, she should be writing the columns.
But the disconnect with the coming generations is what strikes me as disturbing. This is the same phenomenon that occurred when as a young person, I used to look at my parents’ generation, as well as generations before, and wondered what we had in common.
Now, however, the shoe is on the other foot.
Just for the value of culture shock, I thought I might toss out some people, places and things that the generation after mine probably cannot relate to, knows nothing about, or considers an event of history.
• That Sir Paul McCartney was in two bands — Wings and the Beatles.
• Skylab.
• The AFL.
• Cable TV with channel selection boxes that had long cords on them.
• CB radios in your cars.
• Brown paper bags for groceries.
• Taking a paddling at school.
• The fun of a Rubik’s Cube.
• Listening to radio meant listening to AM radio — FM was a new genre, filled with unheard-of bands.
• A McDonald’s ad campaign that featured the phrase “Change back for your dollar.”
• Going to the movies with popcorn, candy and a drink for around four dollars — for two.
• Playing youth baseball with wooden bats — and playing ball in the street.
• Watching wrestling on Saturdays when it was broadcast live from the TV station near home.
• TBS was called “Superstation channel 17.”
• Satellites were used in science fiction stories and James Bond movies, not for weather forecasts.
• The Challenger disaster.
• American hostages being held in Iran for 444 days.
• Ronald Reagan running for president — twice.
These things and many others were ingrained in our generation, but they have slipped past the Gen-X’ers and gone on to the pages of history.
And just like we scratched our heads and looked on with puzzlement as our parents fixated on Ed Sullivan, Vietnam and nuclear war, our kids and their kids look at us and wonder what we get out of TV Land, look on with fascination at our attachment to disco music and southern rock, and fail to get the jokes on reruns of All In The Family.
Society groups us by age — from Baby Boomers to me-generation folks to Gen-Xers. And each age has their icons and their cultures and their unique fingerprint. Just like we want the younger set to appreciate what we have contributed and understand what we respect, so too must we Geezers-to-be demonstrate our willingness to understand what the current generation holds so dear.
If understanding is going to work, we don’t need to like rap music, but we do need to know why the kids do. Extreme sports like jumping off ramps with bicycles and skateboards isn’t something I want to try, but I can appreciate the adrenaline junkies that are into it.
But I gotta draw the line at piercing. Sorry, but that’s where the soon-to-be old man in me begins to bud. I don’t want one, and I do not understand why you kids do. Maybe someone can explain it to me before my hearing goes away, or before I forget why I asked for an explanation.