President: So tell me Jim, what’s The Boomer Blues all about? What will I come to learn and love?

Jim: Well Mr. President, it’s about the baby boom generation. I don’t know about “learn and love”, but I think you’ll laugh a little . . . and maybe some other “L” word if I can think of one. Don’t you just Love ALLiteration, sir?

P: Huh?

J: It’s about our life and times, the highs and the lows, the curve balls and the change-ups, with a lot of humor and a little inspiration.

P: You’re not going to mention the economy, are you?

J: Yes, Mr. President, I thought I might. After all, millions of us just had our 401k’s turn into 201k’s.

P: Darn. But what about the Cold War, the 60’s, Nixon, for God’s sake!? Couldn’t you cover that stuff?

J: Great idea, sir, right after the economy.

P: You’ll never make it in politics, Jim.

J: Thank you, Mr. President.

Jonah and the Whale

I’m a Christian. More specifically, a back-sliding Lutheran. But in a much larger sense, I’m a child of the same God that 3 of the great religions on this earth worship. While I believe in the Bible’s New Testament, I relate more to the rascals, wars and heroes of the Old Testament. The older I get, the less I search for organized religion and the more I search for spirituality. Lord knows the Baby Boomer Generation could use a little spiritual help about now . . . and a little humor wouldn’t hurt either.

Which somehow brings me to Jonah. I can’t recall ever doing the right thing on the first try. Why is the right thing always the hard thing? God told Jonah to go to Ninevah, but he thought all the Ninevites were dirtballs so he bought a ticket on a cruise ship in the opposite direction. Bad idea. Now God had to whip up a storm and have the crew toss Jonah overboard. Then God had to have a whale, which was just minding his own business eating a plankton sandwich, swallow Jonah whole and take him back to the Middle East. How would you like to be inside that whale while he did whatever whales do?

Sure enough, the whale spit old Jonah back on shore, probably covered with gooey inside whale stuff, so he would finally get to work on Ninevah. Maybe all Boomers don’t do things this way, but I bet most of us can relate.

Take avocado-green appliances, for instance. God didn’t want avocado-green appliances in your kitchen ruining your appetite. God wanted doctors to wear avocado-green smocks in operating rooms so they could ruin your chances of survival. In either case, if you spit up, nobody would notice.

The point is that there were Boomers somewhere out there who knew better. Just like there were millions of Boomers who knew better about gas-guzzling cars. But instead of overcoming our addiction to pumping gas, we invented attack vehicles that could intimidate a Sherman tank.

Up and down, back and forth, finding our way in spite of ourselves. That’s the Boomer legacy. Maybe we aren’t covered with whale goop, but it sure feels like that after the Great Recession of 2008. After a lifetime of this nonsense, I’ve finally lost patience with us. As an early Boomer, I was trusting in the rancid masses to come along behind and drive my property values to outrageous levels so I could spend my golden years in the lap of luxury.

But what did the masses do? They booked a cruise in the opposite direction and ran smack into the worst financial storm since the Great Depression. Instead of minding the store, they did what they have always don (aka whatever the hell they wanted), and the system tanked. My “retirement plan” of mutual funds and Florida real estate, which seemed like a hell of an idea at the time, went south without me.

Of course, I’m not alone. There are millions of us–bald, fat, middle-aged veterans of more good times than any generation in history, wondering where the whale will spit us up. We could gnash our teeth, but they’re getting pretty worn.

We could pull out our hair, but there’s precious little of that left. So we blamed Wall Street, the government, the banks, the crooks, the Arabs, and everybody else but us. Sadly, it didn’t help. We have met the enemy and it is us. So there is nothing left for us but to go to Ninevah . . . finally.

Personally, I think the whale should spit me out on the French Riviera. I’m sure God has important work for me there. Boomeritis never dies.

We Will Win

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