Narrowing the Generation Gap
Anyone born in the early 1970s or before remembers when most families only had one television. Ours was a monstrosity. The screen encased in several inches of solid wood and topped with family photos that only partially obscured the hideous antennae. Remote controls and cable were soon to come. But, for a time, we had to actually abdicate our seats and manually operate channel selection. But there were only three, so this was not a time consuming process.
Across the country, people gathered around their main source of entertainment almost nightly to watch whatever majority ruled: recent movies, the classics, and-among others-the lavish musicals of the 40s and 50s. At dinner, I would regale my family with my imitations of movie stars and renditions of ¨Gentlemen Prefer Blondes¨ and anything by Ethel Merman. Sadly, I cannot carry a tune in a No. 2 washtub. But the rest of my family was also tone deaf. So, to us at least it was fun.
Back then, many programs were designed to impart a lesson or a message. My sisters and I usually got the message, but Mother and Daddy felt the need to revisit the subject afterward to assure themselves of our grasp of our subject matter. This often sparked lively debate until someone got too controversial and was told to go to her room and think about what she did.
After careful deliberation, I would decide my parents were unreasonable people.
Now televisions are practically disposable, and almost everyone I know has one in every child’s bedroom. The upside to this is there is no arguing about what to watch. But that is small compensation for what we have given up. The bonding time families once spent in the same room doing the same thing and discussing later is gone. Clearly, there are healthier, more productive ways for a family to strengthen the ties that bind. But, at the end of a weekday, we’re too tired for board games — let alone lawn darts.
Now, with kids having their own television sets, many people have no idea what their kids are watching and the influence it is having on them. The more vigilant use parental controls and even peep in now and then to see if they do not approve of what the network does. But is that enough to really know our kids?
My husband and stepson reside in a world of superheroes, science fiction and aliens among us. It is an imaginary, impenetrable clubhouse with ¨No Girls Allowed¨ painted on the door. And I am so glad. It makes me happy that they share their cinematic society for two. I’m also grateful to be excluded because I would rather watch paint dry, grass grow or the scrubbing bubbles in my tub do their thing than a flick falling into any one of those categories.
Sometimes my stepdaughter huffs and puffs and her shoulders drag the ground on the way to watch a movie I think she needs to see. But I do not negotiate with children. And regardless of her attitude going in, there has only been one she was not glad she saw. Personally, I could do without her rounds of bullet like insults concerning the fashions of the eighties. But I just sit in silent shame having had the giant hair, shoulder pads, and accessories associated with the time.
And I reciprocate by watching her television shows. It tells her I am interested in her and respect her opinion. But she is an odd bird in her entertainment choices. As a small child, it was infomercials. ¨Aunt Tara,¨ as she calls me, ¨We have got to have this mop!¨ Now, it’s gourmet cooking shows on which they prepare and consume seafood I have only used as bait.
I am not saying we should immerse ourselves in their interests, nor they in ours. Teens and tweens have always had their own expressions: the bees knees, groovy, awesome (how many truly awe inspiring things and people do we encounter in a lifetime?), abbreviating every possible phrase as if they are members of a highly trained law enforcement team who cannot be bothered to finish a word, what is that?
I am trying to learn. But no one is ever going to get me to read a book about the complicated but intense relationships that exists between humans and vampires.
But to lose all commonality is not only sad — it’s dangerous. To let our children grow up in a world in which they can only communicate with their own peers is no less than promoting ignorance. It is also a gateway to our losing touch with them, something we cannot abide. And I have said it before. I am saying it now. And I will probably say it again. They grow up so fast.
Letś share as much as we can as often as we can.