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Are Boomers Really the Worst

Sex, Drugs, & Rock

Around the late 1990’s I was given a couple tickets to a Moody Blues concert. Now, I have to pause here and say, sometime in my late 30’s I realized rock music had a negative emotional effect on me. I assumed it was how the music took me back to the angst of my teen years, which were very troubling. But somehow, I it seemed listening to my favorite bands like Fleetwood Mac, Queen, and The Eagles lead me into a deep depression. At the time, I was in a brutal fight for my mental health, so I gave away all my tapes and albums.

But I always liked the Moody Blues. Especially since I enjoyed how the band combined classical with rock and roll. So, I talked my husband Tim, who never was a fan, into going.

That night, we found our seats about half way up the venue. To my surprise the amphitheater never filled up more than 25%. All around us were empty seats. 

When the band came out, I was taken back by how old they all were. I’m guessing they were in their mid to late 60’s. But, I couldn’t stop looking at all their gray hair and wrinkles as I mentally compared them to my staunch, dignified, grandfather. And I couldn’t help but wonder, if those old rock and rollers had some how not grown up. 

Fast forward to early 2019 and the buzz all over social media was around the upcoming 50th anniversary of the Woodstock music festival. To my dismay, many of my peers were ecstatic over the idea of revisiting the awe and wonder of the sex, drugs, and rock and roll revolution. Invites to various revival concerts popped up all over social media. Celebration after celebration of this “iconic” event were documented on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.

And here’s where I’ll lose a lot of my friends. Because I really wanted to ask those folks celebrating the summer of “love,” how much have  you paid for your kids’ rehab???

You see, I never saw anything charming about Woodstock. Maybe when I was 13, I did. But after trudging through the vast wasteland caused by all the free sex, drugs, and rock and roll, I’m a bit jaded. And dumbfounded with my generations inability to see the bad fruit planted there. And the insistence we seem to have in continuing to push this hedonistic lifestyle in spite of its effect on our kids and grandkids. 

So, you will not want me around for your next Woodstock celebration. Because, I want all the geriatric rock starts to get off the doggone stage. And I want them all to be more like my grandfather. A true patriarch who, when things started to fall apart, had a way of stepping in and bringing calm. 

Tim Dillon and Tucker Carlson, in the interview below, are right about Woodstock. And I’m certain that that Moody Blues concert would sell out today. 

https://tuckercarlson.com/tucker-show-tim-dillon

But back to my generations need to hang onto the notion that Woodstock somehow represented freedom and love. Because from any other generations perspective, I don’t think they’d see it that way. But why is it so hard to tell a boomer that. Is it because they feel free? Free of the pressure to grow up? 

So, I must ask, if we boomers are honest, didn’t we just pass many of our burdens on to our kids? Hasn’t our desire to live in a perpetual state of adolescence adversely affected them? In our quest to avoid adulthood, didn’t we just force them into an early maturity when we shrugged off adulthood and forced them to raise themselves? I think we did. If you’re unsure, how about asking your kids what they think? I did, and I was shocked by their answer. 

So, where do we go from here?

#boomers #genx #genchildhood #boomersbelike #silvertsunami #boomerimpact #silentgeneration #xennials 

Are Boomers Really the Worst?

I’m a voracious reader. I can’t help myself. Don’t put a printed page in front of me you don’t want me to read. You can call me nosey, and maybe that’s true. But I’m really just super curious. Have been all my life.

Part of that curiosity is a deep desire to figure out what other people are thinking. Not just their idea’s, but how they came to them. Which puts me on a constant quest for information. 

All that to say, about six months ago, I hired a social media coach to help me amp up my online game. And that’s pushed me out of every comfort zone in my writing world. And it made me question, what do I really have to say? Cause ever since Covid, my thoughts are not settling on the positive fluffy side of life. Instead, my head is filled with a whirlwind of mixed emotions as I watch the western world unravel around me. And that makes me want to write stuff I know will upset a lot of people. 

So, after spending months trying to wrestle my thoughts under control, I’ve decided to just put it out there and let it land where it may. 

But where do I start? Well, I finally figured it out. I’m starting with me, and my generation. The Baby Boomers. Because I now believe many of my peers are not aware of the contempt younger folks have for what they consider a selfish and vile generation. And I tend to think they have some valid points. 

Now, I don’t want to just be on a soap box pointing out faults. I want to change my world with the gift God gave me…writing. So, let’s talk about it. 

For years, my daughter Kelly, has been sharing with me her generations (genX) contempt for mine. At first it took me aback. But then I started paying attention to my peers.

Then all this came to a head last week when I listened to this interview between Tucker Carlson and the comedienne, Tim Dillion. (Check out their boomer rant that starts around the 53:00-minute mark.) What really took me by surprise was when Tucker said, “I hate the boomers. Always have.” He doesn’t even pause, or offer a caveat like, “…well not all of them.” His contempt for my generation rolled easily off his tongue. 

https://tuckercarlson.com/tucker-show-tim-dillon

So, boomers, what should we do? We certainly can’t pretend this isn’t a thing. We must face it. And to be honest, the fruit of our generation doesn’t look very good. There’s a lot of tension between us and our kids. And just like any conflict resolution, I think we need listen, then take an honest look at ourselves and perhaps repent for a few things. Afterall, isn’t that the first step towards healing our land? 

So, watch the rant. Then share your thoughts. Are you guilty of anything there? Do you see yourself Tim’s rant? Huh?

Then stay tuned as I spend a few weeks, months, a year, idk, picking this whole thing apart one issue at a time. Like I said, I want to change my world. 

Be Bold, Tell Your Story

For years I hesitated to tell how I sat on a doctors table waiting to have an abortion. How I felt like God came in the room and urged me to leave. How it felt as though He said, “Ellen, I promise, if walk out everything would be ok.” How I got dressed and left.

I hesitated because I never wanted a woman who chose abortion to feel like God treated me differently by speaking into my heart and not theirs. 

But that all changed one weekend when I attended a Care Ministry conference where my roommate was a woman I’d never met. That first night, she shared with me how she came to be a volunteer in our churches Abortion Recovery Ministry. She told me how for years she was depressed and could not figure out why. Then after years of medication and therapy, she found herself sitting in the group she now helps facilitate. And as a part of the group therapy, she named her baby and had a memorial service for her. That’s when the healing began that eventually set her free from her depression. 

Hesitantly, I shared my abortion clinic story with her. And her response was, “I heard that voice too, only I ignored it.” 

That’s when I realized there was nothing special about my encounter with God. That He speaks to all of us in those kinds of situations. Only we tend to chalk it up to conscience, or intuition, or a gut feeling. But God is consistent and He loves us all. But we tend to cover our ears and build walls around our hearts to keep out our creator.

A few years ago, I posted a pro-life message on social media. In it, I declared how grateful I am for that gentle voice that told me to leave that clinic.

Only, that message triggered a few of my pro-abortion followers who then attacked me and called me names. How dare I be insensitive to those who have had abortions. 

But I stuck to my story, and the story told to me by my roommate at the conference. I stuck to what I’ve seen and heard from others who regret their abortions. Because too many women have been deeply wounded by the lie that an abortion affect them for the rest of their lives.

I can’t get in the weeds to defend my pro-life views as well as I can just tell my story. And perhaps that’s the best way to share the gospel.

There we were, two strangers in a hotel telling similar stories with two very different outcomes. Both stories showed that regardless of what choice we have made, God continues to nudge us to invite Him into the discussion. And when we do, He not only changes us, but uses our story to reach others.

If you have a story like this, please put, “God nudged me too and it changed my life” in the comments. I will then pray for God to use your story to share His Gospel.

#abortionhurtswomen #tellyourstory #godisgoodalways #godhealsbrokenhearts #chooselife

How Do You Fill Your Heart?

Several years ago, on a visit to my mother’s grave, I called my aunt from the cemetery because it always touched her that I went. I wasn’t sure she’d know it was me since dementia had taken much of her short-term memory. But I made the call anyway.

After the hello’s, I told her where I was. “Oh honey,” she said. “I can’t think about that right now. But don’t go away. I want you to hear this. Are you listening?”

“Yes, Aunt Jeanne Marie. I’m listening.”

“Ok, I want you to understand this.” Then she paused and I heard her draw in a deep breath. 

“Honey, you are loved with the simplicity of a child’s love. Do you know what I mean?”

The words fell gently on my heart. Their tenderness indicative of their deliverer. And years of my relationship with this beautiful woman flowed over me as I was reminded of how blessed I am to have her in my life.

You see – Aunt Jeanne Marie spent a lifetime living out Philippians 4:8. From a young age, she chose to focus on what was true, noble, and right. And she filled her heart to the brim with stuff that was pure, lovely, and admirable. 

So, at 89 years old, what came out of her mouth was the overflow of years of what she took in. And in spite of the wear and tear on her mind, her heart couldn’t help but live out Luke 6:45 – For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.

When I’m faced with a crisis, I wrestle with God. And in the wrestling, I shake my fist at Him and ask WHY? After my temper tantrum, I sit down and think of my aunt. Which inspires me to rummage through the ashes in search of something beautiful to offset my rage. I know my heart will never be as full as hers. But because of her, I’m determined to stay in the search.

What crisis of yours did God turn from ashes to beauty? How are you filling your heart?

She was a Proud Matriarch, But Probably Not Like You Think

ma·​tri·​arch ˈmā-trē-ˌärk : a mother who is head and ruler of her family and descendants

I can still hear the way she said my name. Her polished Texas accent slowly annunciating each syllable. Ehhh-len, is the best I can do to spell it. My grandmother, my mother’s mother, was highly educated, fiercely strong, and oh so outspoken. But you best be prepared, her sharp wit could cut you to the core. 

At a picnic in 1921, she and my grandfather met and instantly fell madly in love, despite both being engaged to others. By the end of the year, they were married. By 1927, they had three girls, my mother being the oldest. 

Taking charge of her children’s education, in the 1930’s, my grandmother homeschooled her kids. And while raising and educating them, she went back to school and got a master degree in education. She learned woodcarving from a master in Dallas. She read voraciously, and memorized poetry. Plus, she spent hours making crafts she sold to local shops. 

Arlington VA 1967

And every time she came from Dallas to Virginia for a visit, she brought a suitcase of clothes, and a suitcase of a craft or cooking project to keep us kids busy. 

Once she paid me $10 to memorize Rudyard Kipling’s poem “If.” On another visit, she kept using the word “eons” because it was the word of the week she had chosen to learn. And part of that “learning” was to use it often in a sentence. Which she challenged me to do with her.

Karachi Pakistan 1953

When my grandfather’s job took him around the world, she excitedly went along. Not one to let a life experience go to waste, she used her adventures to educated her grandkids. Letters filled with the history and maps of exotic (remember this was the 60’s) places like Hong Kong, Nigeria, and Pakistan, filled our mailbox. And as I read them, my world got bigger and bigger. 

At no time did my grandmother ever stop trying to influence her flock. And as I enter the twilight years of my life, I think back on all I learned from this incredible woman who never lived in the same time zone as me.

I’ve had the career. I’ve climbed the corporate ladder. I’ve battled in the rat race for over 40 years. But nothing comes close to the job of putting my energy and wisdom into raising my family up in a world that doesn’t value the role of a strong matriarch who puts her family first. 

That said, I think it’s time we take a step back and reevaluate the the important role of a strong Matriarch. And I’ll argue in favor of my opinion with one question: Are our kids better off since mother’s outsourced their leadership role at home in order to lead in the marketplace? 

What say you?