You can't really blame the mainstream media for labeling the Baby Boomers as the "me generation," I suppose. After all, from the perspective of those who controlled the message when that label took hold, their role models included the likes of Jann Wenner, my first boss and the first guy who ever fired me.
At this point, I should explain that the photos in this particular post do not correlate in any way with the words I am choosing. I'll reconcile the obvious contradiction in good time (I hope).
This past weekend, in San Francisco, at RSX, the reunion of those who built Rolling Stone magazine into the 40-year-old cultural icon that it still is, a representative slice of the Baby Boom gathered here next to the Bay.
My view of my generation is not that we are the Me Generation, but that we are in fact the first We Generation.
My sweet friend, accompanying me to the events this weekend, was struck by the unpretentiousness of a group of people who, arguably, changed world culture. She met famous people, brilliant people, people whose words and photos helped transform global culture.
But she didn't meet anybody who thinks of himself or herself as some sort of big deal. From the beginning, all of us sensed we were in this altogether. In time, historians will verify my hypothesis: for a set of complex reasons, the Boomers were the first group to see that if we are to survive as a species on earth, it is not what we do for our own benefit that matters most, but what we do for all people.
If that strikes too idealistic a note for your taste, please consider these photographs from my today. This was a day, courtesy of being unemployed, that I could volunteer in my 8-year-old daughter's third-grade class.
We built, as you can see, paper mache volcanoes. Then the kids ran around outside. I watched them and thought the thoughts I have set down above.
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