I normally pay fairly close attention to the news. I’m not going to get caught reading a newspaper cover to cover, but I definitely like to stay up on the headlines and a few details of what is going on around me. This week, however, has been nothing but celebrity death after celebrity death. It’s sad to see someone pass away for a lot of reasons, but when they do, it gives those left behind a chance to take stock of their own life, and enjoy the days that God has blessed them with.
When I attend a funeral or read of someone passing, I get very reminiscent. I’m sure I’m not the only person who knows this feeling, as death often makes you recall all of the good moments you’ve had. Someone’s experience in life followed by their passing, means that they won’t be there for the next generation to enjoy. That’s where it becomes our job to pass it on.
Who from our generation will ever forget Michael Jackson? Who from our generation will ever forget September 11th? Who from our generation will ever forget the first Nintendo? Who from our generation will forget life when cell phones came in bags? These are things that little Naomi will never experience firsthand, but it’s our job to give her a sense of what life was like for us growing up.
What will life be like for Naomi never having heard Harry Kalas call a Phillies homerun live on the radio while driving home from lunch after church on a Sunday afternoon? What will life be like for Naomi without new episodes of Seinfeld? And what will life be like for Naomi without analog television? Who will be Naomi’s Brittany Spears? Who will be Naomi’s smurfs? Who will be Naomi’s President Reagan?
There will always be a new generation of celebrities and pop culture that will enthrall and entrance our kids just as we were caught up in the stars of our time. But we have a sense of pride, belonging, security, and nostalgia in our pasts that we feel our children must know about. For my parents, it was Connie Mack Stadium, and where they were when Kennedy was assassinated and Neil Armstrong took one small step. It was Elvis Presley and who shot JR. These are all things we’ve heard and read about, but don’t have firsthand memories of.
Each generation is unique, has its own set of experiences, and develops its own set of morals that define its culture. I’m looking forward to the next Michael Jackson and the next Ronald Reagan. I can’t wait for 3-D television and a lack of gas burning cars on the road. I have no idea what the next fad will be, or the next haircut that will be all the rage. Who knows if we’ll have to deal with reality television for much longer. Who knows when hover boards will be flying all over the sidewalks (but not over water – without power of course). And who knows what diseases will be cured and what technology will think of next.
The life that awaits little baby Naomi will be full of much the same, and much not the same. I can’t wait to take her to her first Phillies game and tell her what it was like to win a World Series on a cold, wintry, night(s). I can’t wait to show her where I used to ride my bike and where I went to school. I can’t wait to tell her all about the music I listened too and the movies that I quote. Trust me when I say I’ll do my best to pass it on, and paint a picture of what it was like when I was her age. If only so we can be the same nerdy parents living in the past that our parents were.
