This year, my Thanksgiving holiday included not only back-to-back turkey dinners, Black Friday shopping and football in front of the TV, but also a wedding that required a large chunk of my Saturday.
The timing was perfectly logical to me; my wife and I also chose Thanksgiving weekend for our nuptials 26 years ago. Somewhat surprising to us, very few invitations came back marked “regrets,” proving that people are always looking for an excuse to abandon their own relatives on a holiday weekend if a better opportunity presents itself. This wedding — the bride was my next-door neighbor’s daughter — was no exception in terms of guests. The ceremony was standing room only and every seat at the reception was occupied.
As I watched the guests file in, I realized what a rare situation this was: I was attending a social event where many of the participants were half my age. Sure, there were the obligatory grandparents, aunts and uncles of the newlyweds, along with baby boomers like my wife and I, who had graciously received an invitation due to our friendship with the couple’s parents.
But the hall was filled, predominantly, with millennials and the Gen Z set. You know, THOSE people, the ones we boomers love to say exist in a cellular word, unable to find the bathroom in their apartments without a GPS. We boomers are hilarious, aren’t we?
The objects of our scorn and judgement have retaliated, primarily with the cutting, “OK, boomer” retort that has become a Twitter hashtag and spawned countless memes, Instagram posts, TikTok videos and the like, all designed to put boomers like myself in our places. In short, “OK, boomer” means “Yes, older generation, we know you worked traditional jobs that required going to an office every day; we know you scrapped and saved for that African safari that you took when you were 60, as opposed to 25; we know you weren’t able to play the ‘Mental Health Day’ card when you didn’t feel like going to work; blah, blah blah.”
“OK, boomer” means “we’ve heard it and we’re sick of it.”
I wondered if an “OK, boomer” response would be hurled my way at any point during the wedding. If, from the dance floor, I yelled, “How about a Journey song?” would the DJ reply, “OK, boomer” into his mic before drowning out my pleas with a Lizzo or Camila Cabello track while fellow dancers, some of whom I coached in youth softball leagues, laughed and pointed in my direction?
At the bar, if I requested a vodka gimlet, would the bartender, trying to stifle a smirk say, “OK, boomer” while a Gen Z in line behind me said, “While you’re making that, can I just have half a dozen White Claws?” Gen Z’s don’t like to wait by the way; watch how they freak out when their phones are slow to respond.
Would I need to anticipate this culture clash and have a retort of my own up my sleeve? If, for example, a Gen Z overheard me remarking that the temperature in the room was a bit chilly for my liking and muttered, “OK, boomer” loud enough for me to hear, should I respond with, “I’m sorry I’m contributing to the overheating of our planet. If my presence repulses you, why don’t you go find the bride and groom and casually mention that having children only leads to overpopulation?”
We boomers can be snarky too.
Thankfully, none of those scenarios played out. I spent a delightful evening chatting with men and women at the starting line of their adult lives. Sure, they have their own ideas about the future; some that may conflict with mine. But their time has begun, and they seem more than willing to embrace it. I can’t wait to see what they deliver. Even if it means wearing an extra layer of clothing at the next wedding I attend while realizing I’m not going to be able to find a plastic bottle of water anymore.
