January 31, 1996 |
Buried somewhere in the attic is an old New Yorker article in which the author's premise was that the post-World War II generation - roughly, those born between the mid-1920s and the mid-1940s - was a neglected and forgotten bunch. When they were children, during the Great Depression, their fathers would greet them with, "Don't bother me kid, while I try to figure out how to make the payments on the old Studebaker. " Years later, it would be, "Don't bug me kid while I read about how your big brother and his buddies invaded Normandy.
November 19, 1987 |
With President Reagan's nomination of Judge Anthony M. Kennedy to the Supreme Court, the Ginsburg marijuana episode is gone, but not forgotten. For days, the Washington Establishment - though not most of the public - recoiled with horror after the disclosure that Judge Ginsburg had smoked pot. How could a onetime dope-smoker, however right-wing on economic and legal matters, ever earn his way onto the Supreme Court? Subsequently, two Democratic Presidential hopefuls, Sen. Albert Gore Jr. of Tennessee and Gov. Bruce Babbitt of Arizona, came clean that they, too, had tried marijuana when younger.
January 21, 1993
The last time a president took power in the name of his generation, America was looking outward, secure in its own strength. When John F. Kennedy called on his countrymen 32 years ago to "bear the burden of a long twilight struggle," he was talking not of renewing America, but of defending freedom around the world "in its hour of maximum danger. " Bill Clinton sought yesterday to rally the next generation and again unite in common cause. "This is our time," he said of the post-war baby boomers.
May 20, 1986 |
If you were a college student in the years right after World War II, you'd have felt like a wallflower at the late-night bull session if you hadn't read Ernest Hemingway and William Faulkner and T.S. Eliot and Thomas Wolfe. In the Eisenhower '50s, you were On the Road with Jack Kerouac and the Beats, or identifying with J.D. Salinger's Holden Caulfield, or drawing solemn and rather nasty conclusions about the human race from William Golding's Lord of the Flies and (strangely similar)
January 20, 1993 |
Bill Clinton has persuaded the American people that the whole nation can symbolically share the name of his Arkansas hometown - Hope. Now all he has to do is deliver on that sweeping promise. For all the threats boiling up from Iraq or Bosnia or Somalia, for all the anguish of the homeless, the AIDS victims or the latest casualties in the continuing drug shootout in our streets, Clinton, on this first day of his presidency, will be swept along on a current of hope that knows no geographic or racial or philosophical or partisan bounds.
September 18, 2000 |
I don't know much about the Gen-X kids. They pierce their tongues. They tattoo their backsides. They get weird haircuts and wear baggy shorts. And they always look like those ticked-off skinny kids on those Gap commercials. I'm not sure why they wear 14 earrings and dye their hair purple, but I have a good idea why they are mad: They finally figured out that Grandma swindled 'em. Grandpa, too. And Mom and Dad. This is no teen angst thing. Today's young adults have recognized the legacy of our generation.
February 14, 1992 |
A friend, in Ithaca to visit her college-student son, was making small talk with one of the young man's pals. "And what are you majoring in?" she asked. "Unfortunately," came the reply, "I graduated in January. " Unfortunately?! My friend is still shaking her head over that one. Her own generation - our generation - could hardly wait to get college behind us. We saw ourselves as bright, eager and in demand - maybe not for the job of our dreams, but at least for decent, career-oriented employment.
October 12, 1993 |
Standing in her first-grade classroom at Booker T. Washington Elementary School, Lois Ferguson is working in the same building where her family's educational history began. It was at Washington in 1929 that Ferguson's father, London B. Jones, began a three-generation tradition. Now Ferguson, her two sisters and her daughter are all elementary school teachers. "Our family was educated-minded because along with my father, we had three aunts who were also teachers," Lois Ferguson said.
August 13, 1994 |
Woodstock '94, multicolored and multicultural, tie-dyed and T-shirted, wild-haired and laid back, bare-topped and bottom-lined, cloned after another festival in what seems a lifetime ago, debuted in the dust and din yesterday. Thousands came. They spent millions. Ulster County, N.Y., a normally quiet place about 100 miles north of New York City, rocked, rolled and readied to recoil as people came from across the country and world. This is a town where the regular police force numbers 32. Residents remembered the other celebration of peace and love that took place not far from here a quarter-century before, and some feared a repeat of that.
November 28, 1993 |
It's been a rotten year for true crime and us young folks, and the untimely death of River Phoenix was the absolute last straw. Older generations had Bonnie and Clyde. We X-ers have Erik and Lyle Menendez, charged with gunning down their folks in a Beverly Hills mansion. And then there was Heidi Fleiss, 27-year-old "Madam to the Stars," with her sunglasses and miniskirts, her desperate grin and her little black book full of (alleged) dynamite. Teenagers lay down in highways after a football movie called The Program told them it was courageous.