I always did believe in miracles...

It's always time to try

I started out this blog writing about never giving up. A long time ago, Lent of last year, I wrote about not giving up for Lent.

One advantage to having had a lot of very difficult times in life is that you can recognize when things are really just fine. I’ve been on Medicaid and EBT without a job and almost without a home. A latecomer to health disaster, in my forties I had a very hard time that without the support of my wonderful three parents and some very close friends, I may not have survived.

But survive I did. Often in true Daenerys Targaryen fashion. What, she arose from the ashes… again!?

Now I am fifty and tired of rising from ashes. I am grateful for a little happy life, working for an organization I believe in, praying again, making some new friends.

I am Gen X. I grew up in the Labor Movement, a rough and tumble world where bosses yelled at you and came on to you, where off color jokes were just normal and no one thought a thing about it. You didn’t expect to get a lot of praise for your work, and you did expect to get raked over the coals, often for things you could not control. There were no personal boundaries. No work life balance. You were expected to be on call 24/7 for the workers, acting as their leader, their organizer, their therapist, and any number of other unhealthy roles.

Goodbye to all that I said some ten years ago. I miss the thrill, for sure, but I do not miss the insanity.

Millenials I’ve noticed are very, very different. On the surface, they are so NICE! So bizarrely nice. It’s quite odd when you first encounter it. They use words like self-care. They compliment you for showing up to work and existing. I rather like it, actually. I respond well to encouragement.

My first millenial (spellcheck says I’m spelling it wrong but google says I have it right) supervisor had just graduated from college. I was a Case Investigator for PA during COVID. She was fabulous. Encouraging, warm, and provided gentle course correction if something was not done correctly. I was really confused at first but warmed up quickly.

Now the world is gradually becoming theirs, though I hope that Gen X does not abdicate our responsibility to lead. Speaking only of the white middle and upper class ones, they grew up with a safety culture that is nothing like how we lived. We offend them, a lot.

“We’re like Vikings to them, man,” said one of my close friends who is older Gen X. I’m late Gen X - 1974. But still, very Gen X.

They were born into an insecure world, and their parents seem to have projected a ton of anxiety onto them. I am interested to see how they fare as they hit the ages where people start to break… forties, under pressure of career, family, and beginning to confront mortality. I have a feeling I’ll be getting a lot of calls from a lot of young friends who need to talk to someone non-judgmental as their life is falling apart.

But for now, the particular miracles in my life happen to be an older and a younger millenial. I have benefited greatly from Millenial kindness. As a true Gen X’er, I value loyalty highly. I forgive a lot when people are good to me. Perhaps I’m given to understatement, but I’d do a lot to protect these young people who have done a lot to protect me.

While I attempt to learn the scripted code of Millenial and Gen Z interactions, avoid making off color jokes or complimenting anyone on the tie their wife picked out for them, I appreciate the miracle of collaboration between generations. I mean, I do make jokes with my Gen X friends behind their backs. You gotta have some fun.

One of my young friends has this fabulous habit of stopping before responding to almost anything, taking a breath as he organizes his thoughts, then speaking. I’ve tried that lately. It is great for stopping a Gen X’er from saying what everyone is thinking but what would be WAY off script.

There is a certain lack of fire that I miss. We had fire in the labor movement, from the moment I got involved until the moment I walked quietly out. We believed in something.

I wonder if the bizarre pro-Hamas kids are just looking for some fire, some alternative to the scripted woke interactions they have been taught are “safe.” I wish they would make off-color jokes and have safe sex instead of stabbing my friends in the eye and coloring the world with antisemitic graffiti.

But in my little world, I am happy. I am filled with gratitude for those who have stayed with me through very difficult times. I’m grateful for my body that has the ability to get back in shape. More than anything, I am grateful for my cat. She caught a mouse the other night. It’s important to have a mouser in West Philly.

Here is a flower that was my favorite of the ones my grandfather grew. I wonder what my grandfather, who survived the Depression, extreme poverty, made a fortune, lost it, made it back, raised four children, and had a colorful life would think of the world we live in now. He had many flaws, some that I became aware of later in life, but he was an interesting, trailblazing person. Our whole family got different parts of his genes. I never thought of myself as an artist or photographer (he was extremely successful at both) until I started taking flower pictures a few years ago. I wonder what he would say about our world.

My grandmother might not have said it, but she would have had a more nuanced view, I think.

I find myself missing a time that is gone by. My closest friends are mostly older, many are much older. The time we lived in is fading… but I’m not.

“You. Are. Not. Done.” said a good friend and early subscriber.

He was right.