I was born in 1967 and am a member of Generation X (Gen X). Gen Xer’s were born between 1965 and 1980 and are known for their independence, work ethic, and resilience. We are the children of the Silent generation (1928-1945) and Boomers (1946-1964). We are parents and grandparents to the Millennials (1981-1996) and Ge n Z (1997-2012). Clear as mud?
Gen Xer’s are referred to as the forgotten generation. We grew up riding in the back of pick-up trucks while going down the highway at 55 mph, drinking water from garden hoses, and becoming independent at an early age due to being “latchkey” kids. The term latchkey came into being in the 1940’s when dad’s and husbands were deployed fighting the war, the mom was working, and the kids often returned to empty homes after school.
Growing up as part of the Gen X generation was awesome. I grew up in a small town in western Montana and loved drinking from the garden hose, riding in the back of my dad and grandpa’s pick-up trucks, and appointing myself in charge of the house and my brother when my parents were working. If it was a pretty summer night, it was common for me and my friends to be on top of our roof watching the stars. I did not ask if it was ok to climb all over the roof, I knew where the ladder was. As a Gen X kid, I ran all over my neighborhood, rode my bike throughout the town, and did my best to make it home by dinner. There were no cell phones and checking in with parents involved me screaming at my mom while I was somewhere down the block, so she knew I was still alive. My friends and I would occasionally make an appearance at my home but that was just to grab a Jello pudding cup (in a metal can with a pull tab) or a piece of fruit and get back out there. We had places to go and things to do.
My dad worked as a wildlife biologist for the Forest Service and often had early morning drives to get to work, and my mom was a registered nurse who worked at the Missoula County Health Department. My folks left the house early in the morning and got home after 5 p.m. When my brother and I were young (under 10), my Grandma Betty would come to the house and get us off to school and we would go to her house to wait for my dad to pick us up after he got off work.
Life got interesting the summer I was 12 years old. Mom had arranged for a teenage girl to come into the house during the summer and babysit my brother (who was 9 at the time) and me. The girl, like any typical 16-year-old, was extremely interested in talking on the landline phone with her friends, shaving her legs, and watching General Hospital. While she was busy with these tasks, I was shampooing the carpets, harvesting the garden, and bossing my brother around. I had time, I liked to keep busy, and I really enjoyed being in charge. After the first two weeks of her employment, I convinced my mom to let the babysitter go. I had things under control and except for a few knock down drag outs with my little brother (which the babysitter could not have stopped), all was good. I did not need a babysitter to watch me. Besides, I argued, my folks were coming home to a clean home with dinner ready every night. This was a win for everyone. I also took it upon myself to learn how to make gin and tonics so I could provide mom and dad with a cool beverage after work. I vividly remember going sideways with a local store clerk on one occasion because she refused to sell me a bottle of champagne. Her refusal ruined my planned celebration dinner, but I still got to use the wok and whip up a stir fry to celebrate.
I look back on that summer and laugh. I enjoyed being independent and I loved every minute of being a self-appointed homemaker. The summer was one of the last summers I would spend not being “professionally” employed. I had my first full-time summer job at 14 years, and it involved me driving my grandpa’s car (without a driver’s license) to a town about fifteen miles away to weed commercial gardens. I hated that job, but it helped fuel my shopping addiction at Southgate Mall in Missoula. The following summer, I became a lifeguard at the Stevensville pool and kept that job until I left for college.
I embrace being a member of Gen X fully and like so many other of my same age friends and family members, we are independent, hardworking, and not in the mood for whining or excuses. I am grateful that my parents let me run wild and that they gave me the opportunity to oversee the house that summer back in 1979. No one lost a limb, and despite there being a couple of oven fires, broken appliances, and run ins with grocery clerks who had a problem selling me alcohol, we got through it. Those were the days and if you know, you know.
