I'm 59 years old today. There, I said it. Actually, I readily admit to it, because I believe that those of us born in 1951 were born at the best possible time in the history of the universe. Face it, post-WWII United States was a fine little world to come into for a white, middle class kid. Everything was tickin' along. Men wore hats, women wore gloves, children wore Buster Browns or Red Goose shoes. Something big was about to happen, and we all knew it. Things were looking up.
A 1951 baby hit all the right stuff at the right age. We were the first to get our hands on Etch-a-Sketch, Vac-U-Form, and Give-a-Show Projector. And, yeah, Barbie. Crest aimed its "Look, Ma, no cavaties!" ads straight at us and our parents. Rock-and-roll and Motown had time to perfect their styles and get over their dorky periods before doing their best (and still best) stuff right about the time we hit our teens. Mini-skirts and fishnets - yep, teenage fashion just for us. Blue jeans, Woodstock, and college protests rose to fame as we landed on college campuses in 1969. By the time we got out of school and were earning a little pocket money, and looking real fine - disco! Ah, sex before AIDS. And so it goes.
I'm tired of all the Baby Boomer bashing. As I've said before, talk to the "Greatest Generation," who decided they deserved a decade of unfettered procreating. Being born wasn't our fault. We were just the beneficiaries of post-war technology, social and musical revolution, Madison Avenue, and affordable college education. Don't be jealous. Those of us 1951 babies were just lucky. (Don't want to hear any moaning from the "Silent Generation" or "GenXrs." Boo. Hoo.)
So, yeah, I'm 59, but it's been fun beyond words. Wonder what else will be invented just for me?