Jonesin’ for Recognition

Ever heard of the hit song, “Summer of ‘75?”

No?

In his chart-topping "Summer of '69," Bryan Adams sang about "the best days of my life": getting his first real six-string, playing in a band, working at the drive-in, and the first blush of love.

You know, all the things that 8-year-olds do.

Adams' co-writer, Jim Vallance was 19 in the summer of 69. But the man who made the song famous was 8 in that pivotal year for the Baby Boomer generation. So was I.

I'm not sure why Bryan Adams decided to sing about the definitive high school years of his collaborator instead of his own, but I'm thinking it was because the record company decision-makers didn’t think anyone would find a song about the "Summer of 75" relevant to the listening audience.

And that's the problem.

Adams and I and a whole bunch of people who have always been told that we're Boomers simply don't identify with Boomer "defining moments"--

Leave it to Beaver? Um, I remember the reruns.

The Kennedy and King assassinations? I was 2 and 7, respectively.

The Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show? I was 3.

Woodstock? I was 8.

The Nixon resignation? I was 13, but I sorta remember my parents watching the news the day it happened.

Clearly the traditional definition of a Boomer as anyone born between 1946 and 1964 just isn't a workable definition.

Enter Jonathan Pontell and his book, "Generation Jones." Pontell identifies another cohort that's part of neither the Baby Boomers or Generation X. He calls those born between 1954 and 1965 the "Generation Jones" cohort. We constitute 26 percent of all U.S. adults today.

He must have hit a nerve, because the year after Pontell came out with his book in 2000, the concept of a "Generation Jones" was discussed on over 500 television, radio and print media outlets. Since then, the generational identity has been discussed on CNN, MSNBC, and covered heavily during the 2006 elections. Universities even teach courses on Jonesers.

Are you a Joneser? Take this pop quiz and find out. It'll be a walk down memory lane for some of you. (I got 9 out of 10, by the way.) Pontell's Generation Jones website will get the nostalgic juices flowing, too.

Why the name “Generation Jones”? For one, Pontell says, because “Jones” connotes anonymity, like a “Generation Smith” or “Generation Doe,” and until recently, this cohort in the shadow of the Boomers was practically unknown. But the label also connects with the slang term “jones”: a craving for someone or something. Generation Jones came of age in the late 1970s and early 1980s with a certain unrequited, “jonesin” quality. Consider their songs: Gary Wright's Dream Weaver, Bruce Springsteen's Hungry Heart, or U2's I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For. The generation's movies also share that restlessness, such as Fame, St. Elmo's Fire and Sleepless in Seattle.

We came of age in what many consider “a slum of a decade,” according to David Frum, and most of us who were in high school in the 70s would agree. Frum says that people “like to glorify the 60s as the time when all cool things happened [and so] this generation just got swept under the carpet.”

Suzanne Fields in the Washington Times says, “If they’re not ‘the lost generation’ they’re invisible to most of our cultural commentators.”

“Growing up I always felt I was the only person my age. They spoke in the media as if everyone was 15 years older than me,” said Tamara Ruiz, whose 1964 birthday makes her one of the last Boomers according to the definition given by most demographers.

“Coming of age politically in the late 1970s and early 1980s,” Pontell says, “Joneses were the much discussed ‘Reagan Youth,’ and is the most conservative U.S. generation by a considerable margin.”

Still, most of us Jonesers would agree with Malcolm White of the Know media agency in the U.K., who said that Jonesers “have that ‘now or never quality of early middle-age that if they don’t pursue their dreams of self-realization soon, they probably never will.”

These reflections of mine aren't meant to divide, and I don't share Pontell's harsh way of distinguishing Jonesers from Boomers. I'd have no trouble being called a Boomer if the label ever stretched wide enough to include my defining high school experiences. Since no one ever stretches the label that wide, though, I'm attracted to Pontell's attempts to give my age range a little sharper definition.

To me, then, it's about defining, not dividing. I gladly serve a church made up adults in their 20s to adults in their 90s. I'm glad to be an "honorary member" of each age group's social circles. In the end, as the song goes, "I'm so glad I'm a part of the Family of God." But we can better understand each other in the Family only when we understand the cultural factors that were in play when each generation came "of age."