Children of the Eighties (fwd)

I don't *think* this has been posted before..  Thought some of us would
find it strangely amusing..  (especially after seeing Grosse Pointe
Blank the other day)

> Date: Fri, 18 Apr 1997 19:10:40 -0400
> From: Patrick Ward <cngevpx@HH.ARG>
> Subject: Children of the Eighties
> 
> Wow.  This takes me back.  It's kinda long, but worth it.
> 
> 
> >
> >  Don't call me a Generation X-er
> >
> >  I am a child of the eighties. That is what I prefer to be called.The
> >nineties can do without me. Grunge isn't here to stay, fashion is fickle
> >and "Generation X" is a myth created by some over-40 writer trying to
> >figure out why people wear flannel in the summer. When I got home from
> >school, I played with my Atari 2600. I spent hours playing Pitfall or
> >Combat or Breakout or Dodge'em Cars or Frogger. I never did beat
> >Asteroids. Then I watched "Scooby Doo." Daphne was a Goddess, and I
> >thought Shaggy was smoking something synthetic in the back of their
> >psychedelic van. I hated Scrappy. 
> >
> >  I would sleep over at friends' houses on the weekends. We played army
> >with G.I. Joe figures, and I set up galactic wars between Autobots and
> >Decepticons. We stayed up half the night throwing marshmallows and
> >Velveeta at one another. We never beat the Rubik's Cube. I got up on
> >Saturday mornings at 6 a.m. to watch bad Hanna-Barbera cartoons like "The
> >Snorks,"  "Jabberjaw,"  "Captain Caveman," and "SpaceGhost." In between I
> >would watch "School House Rock." ("Conjunction junction, what's your
> >function?") 
> >
> >  On weeknights Daisy Duke was my future wife. I was going to own the
> >General Lee and shoot dynamite arrows out the back. Why did they weld the
> >doors shut? At the movies the Nerds got Revenge on the Alpha Betas by
> >teaming up with the Omega Mus. I watched Indiana Jones save the Ark of the
> >Covenant, and wondered what Yoda meant when he said, "No, there is
> >another." 
> >
> >  Ronald Reagan was cool. Gorbachev was the guy who built a McDonalds in
> >Moscow. My family took summer vacations to the Gulf of Mexico and
> >collected "Muppet Movie" glasses along the way. (We had the whole set.) 
> >My siblings and I fought in the back seat. At the hotel we found creative
> >uses for Connect Four pieces like throwing them in that big air
> >conditioning unit. 
> >
> >  I listened to John Cougar Mellencamp sing about Little Pink Houses for
> >Jack and Diane. I was bewildered by Boy George and the colors of his
> >dreams, red, gold, and green. MTV played videos. Nickelodeon played "You
> >Can't Do That on Television" and "Dangermouse." Cor! HBO showed Mike Tyson
> >pummel everybody except Robin Givens, the bad actress from "Head of the
> >Class"  who took all Mike's cashflow. 
> >
> >  I drank Dr. Pepper. "I'm a Pepper, you're a Pepper, wouldn't you like to
> >be a Pepper, too?" Shasta was for losers. TAB was a laboratory accident. 
> >Capri Sun was a social statement. Orange juice wasn't just for breakfast
> >anymore, and bacon had to move over for something meatier. 
> >
> >  My mom put a thousand Little Debbie Snack Cakes in my Charlie Brown
> >lunch box, and filled my Snoopy Thermos with grape Kool-Aid. I would never
> >eat the snack cakes, though. Did anyone? I got two thousand cheese and
> >cracker snack packs, and I ate those. 
> >
> >  I went to school and had recess. I went to the same classes everyday. 
> >Some weird guy from the eighth grade always won the science fair with the
> >working hydro-electric plant that leaked on my project about music and
> >plants. They just loved Beethoven. Field day was bigger than Christmas,
> >but it always managed to rain just enough to make everybody miserable
> >before they fell over in the three-legged race. Where did all those panty
> >hose come from? "Deck the Halls with Gasoline, fa la la la la la la la
> >la," was just a song. 
> >
> >  Burping was cool. Rubber band fights were cooler. A substitute teacher
> >was a baby sitter/marked woman. Nobody deserved that. I went to Cub
> >Scouts. I got my arrow-of-light, but never managed to win the Pinewood
> >Derby. I got almost every skill award but don't remember ever doing
> >anything. 
> >
> >  The world stopped when the Challenger exploded.
> >  Half of your friends' parents got divorced.
> >  People did not just say no to drugs. 
> >  AIDS started, but you knew more people who had a grandparent die from
> >  cancer.
> >  Somebody in your school died before they graduated.
> >  When you put all this stuff together, you have my childhood. If this
> >  stuff sounds familiar, then I bet you are one, too.
> >
> >  We are children of the eighties. That is what I prefer "they" call it.
> >
> >  We are the children of the Eighties.  We are not the first "lost
> >generation" nor today's lost generation; in fact, we think we know just
> >where we stand - or are discovering it as we speak.  We are the ones who
> >played with Lego Building Blocks when they were just building blocks and
> >gave Malibu Barbie crewcuts with safety scissors that never really cut. 
> >
> >  We collected Garbage Pail Kids and Cabbage Patch Kids and My Little
> >Ponies and Hot Wheels and He-Man action figures and thought She-Ra looked
> >just a little bit like I would when I was a woman. 
> >
> >  Big Wheels and bicycles with streamers were the way to go, and sidewalk
> >chalk was all you needed to build a city.  Imagination was the key. It
> >made the Ewok Treehouse big enough for you to be Luke and the kitchen
> >table and an old sheet dark enough to be a tent in the forest.  Your world
> >was the backyard and it was all you needed.  With your pink portable tape
> >player, Debbie Gibson sang back up to you and everyone wanted a skirt like
> >the Material Girl and a glove like Michael Jackson's. 
> >
> >  Today, we are the ones who sing along with Bruce Springsteen and The
> >Bangles perfectly and have no idea why.  We recite lines with the
> >Ghostbusters and still look to The Goonies for a great adventure. We flip
> >through T.V. stations and stop at The A Team and Knight Rider and Fame and
> >laugh with The Cosby Show and Family Ties and Punky Brewster and what you
> >talkin' 'bout Willis? 
> >
> >  We hold strong affections for The Muppets and The Gummy Bears and why
> >did they take the Smurfs off the air?  After school specials were only
> >about cigarettes and step-families. The Pokka Dot Door was nothing like
> >Barney, and aren't the Power Rangers just Voltron reincarnated? 
> >
> >  We are the ones who still read Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys, the
> >Bobbsey Twins, Beverly Clearly and Judy Blume, Richard Scary and the
> >Electric Company.  Friendship bracelets were ties you couldn't break and
> >friendship pins went on shoes - preferably hightop Velcro Reebox - and
> >pegged jeans were in, as were Units belts and layered socks and jean
> >jackets and jams and charm necklaces and side pony tails and just tails. 
> >Rave was a girl's best friend; braces with colored rubberbands made you
> >cool. 
> >
> >  The backdoor was always open and Mom served only red Kool-Aid to the
> >neighborhood kids- never drank New Coke.  Entertainment was cheap and
> >lasted for hours.  All you needed to be a princess was high heels and an
> >apron; the Sit'n'Spin always made you dizzy but never made you stop;
> >Pogoballs were dangerous weapons and Chinese Jump Ropes never failed to
> >trip someone.  In your Underoos you were Wonder Woman or Spider Man or
> >R2D2 and in your treehouse you were king. 
> >
> >  In the Eighties, nothing was wrong.  Did you know the president was
> >shot?  Star Wars was not only a movie.  Did you ever play in a bomb
> >shelter?  Did you see the Challenger explode or feed the homeless man?  We
> >forgot Vietnam and watched Tiananman's Square on CNN and bought pieces of
> >the Berlin Wall at the store.  AIDS was not the number one killer in the
> >United States. 
> >
> >  We didn't start the fire, Billy Joel.  In the Eighties, we redefined the
> >American Dream, and those years defined us.  We are the generation in
> >between strife and facing strife and not turning our backs. The Eighties
> >may have made us idealistic, but it's that idealism that will push us and
> >be passed on to our children - the first children of the twenty-first
> >century.  Never forget: We are the children of the Eighties.
> >
> >
> >
> 
> ==========================================================
> Patrick Ward			      rznvy:cngevpx@hh.arg
> Webmaster			      voice:(703) 208-5345
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> 


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