Boomers Make 50 Their Own Like an early gift, your April 3 issue, with its Cover Story “The New Middle Age” (SPECIAL REPORT), arrived in my mailbox two days before I celebrated my 50th birthday. I am not thrilled with reaching the half-century mark, but your insightful piece on baby boomers’ reaching their middle years suggests that decrepitude is not necessarily around the corner. By heeding the advice of financial and medical experts, my generation has every reason to expect to enjoy an active, secure and healthy future, long after the middle years have become the golden years. Frances Syner Cranston, R.I.
Back in the old country, my mother would say: “If you don’t have any worries, you’ll make some.” And so it is with the boomer generation. They have jobs, homes, cars, portfolios and more electronic gadgets than they know what to do with. And yet, at barely the midpoint of their lives, their thoughts gravitate toward old age and the inevitable end. Give me a break! Members of my generation endured abject poverty, were pounded by bombs during the London Blitz, were cooked by the sun in North African desert battles and were shipwrecked by torpedoes in the Pacific Ocean. We were too busy surviving the dangers and privations of everyday life to muse upon our far-off twilight years. Frances Nunnally Richmond, Va.
Your cover story on aging baby boomers hit awfully close to home. I used to think turning 50 was no big deal. That is, until my best friend turned “five-oh” and immediately went into quite a funk. It wasn’t because he needed Viagra. No, my best friend of 40 years hit the wall after realizing his picture was never going to be published in Surfer magazine. Turning 50 means the kids I went to school with are as old as the United Nations, Tropicana orange juice and Elmer’s glue. Even though my friend probably won’t have his photograph published in Surfer, I keep telling him there are still plenty of waves to ride. To dyed-in-the-wool boomers, these words are music to our collective ears. Denny Freidenrich Laguna Beach, Calif.
Gag. I am so tired of the boomers’ thinking that they are the first generation in history to experience life. If they weren’t so self-absorbed, they’d realize that there were actually people who lived before them, and there will be others who will be living after them. After reading your “New Middle Age” issue, I really begin to dread how the boomers will whine during their golden years and even nursing-home years. I can see the headlines now: boomers hit retirement; can earth survive without them? You boomers have heard about old age, haven’t you? Oh, I forgot: since you’re not there yet, it doesn’t exist. Tim Wiseman Colorado Springs, Colo.
I am one of those baby-boomer orphans you referred to in your article “When You’re Nobody’s Child” (SPECIAL REPORT, April 3). When my father died in 1988, I felt I had lost my biggest fan. He was the one who always thought I was “a sight for sore eyes”! When my mother died in 1995, I felt instantly ratcheted up a notch to “next in line.” There’s no one left who will allow me to be the child I once was–now I’m the adult full time. I still reach for the phone to share happy news of my family with my parents, but of course they aren’t there. I can’t say your article cheered me up, but it sure struck home. Please remind those baby boomers who still have their parents to treasure the time they still have together. Jenny K. Messner Summit, N.J.
Your article defines boomers as “the generation born between 1946 and 1964.” I was born in 1963, which theoretically puts me in the zone. But I say, feh! What do I have in common with someone who graduated from high school the year I was born? What do I have in common with someone who was smoking dope and protesting Vietnam when I was learning fractions? What do I have in common with someone who is getting circulars from the AARP when I am choosing an elementary school for my eldest child? There’s a lot of us folks born between, say, 1958 and 1968, who don’t have a fig in common with the boomers. We have opinions about them, we deal with them all the time, but they are not us. And speaking for myself, I’m tired of being categorized with them. Doug O’Morain San Jose, Calif.
After I read through your article on middle-aged baby boomers, I couldn’t help trying to figure out how I stacked up, fit in and compared to everyone else in this category. I rationalized the negatives one way or another, and when I found the positives, I crowed and did a “Rocky” on the front lawn of our suburban house–next to my Jet Skis, which are attached to my SUV, in my designer sweats, listening to “classic rock” while planning what to have with our rack of lamb dinner. I ask myself, is it real, or is it a “Baby Bummer Dream”? I do know this much–the fun I am having now is the result of having worked very hard from the age of 16 through 35 as a full-fledged professional chef. The 16-hour shifts, seven-day work weeks and years go by before you know it. Luckily for me, I found out that there is more to life than that, and in 1998, at the age of 41, I finished second in the country as an amateur freestyle Jet Skier, behind the national champion (age: 21), my teammate Gary Burtka. Age truly is a state of mind. It’s not too bad getting older, as long as you don’t get “old.” Next month I will marry and live out my days with Gail, happier tomorrow even than I am today. Michael R. Niksic Lincolnwood, Ill.
Teachers Are a Class Act As a future teacher, I couldn’t agree more with Emily Moore’s April 3 MY TURN, “Why Teachers Are Not ‘Those Who Can’t’.” There is no such thing as being overqualified to teach. Sara Simons Wellesley College, Class of 2003 Wellesley, Mass.
I used to be a teacher and am currently working as a program manager for a company in the Fortune “Top 10.” In the three years since I left teaching, I have more than doubled my salary, been very successful in my corporate endeavors–and watched in horror as some of the most talented of my former teaching colleagues have followed in my footsteps. Obviously, I can do whatever I put my mind to. And for that reason I have decided to return to teaching this fall. Many of my current colleagues have said to me, “One day I’m going to drop out of this rat race and teach school.” As if what they’re doing is so much more stressful and difficult than teaching. They have no clue. Teaching is by far the most challenging, intellectually stimulating and rewarding career I have had. It requires more intelligence, creativity, compassion and tenacity than any executive-level position to which I’ve been exposed. Our students do deserve the very best. I commend Emily Moore and sincerely hope that her words will lead others to reflect on the respect and honor that the teaching profession deserves. I personally can’t wait to return to the classroom. Wendy K. Drexler Dunedin, Fla.
The old canard should be rewritten to read, “Those who can, do. Those who can do more, teach.” Phyllis Holcomb Dunlap, Tenn.
Emily Moore’s essay reveals an inspiring enthusiasm for teaching. I wonder how long her love for the classroom will last. I, too, am a Princeton graduate (class of ‘96) and after two years in the classroom, my idealism is dead. I used all my knowledge and all my “people skills” to try to excite my students, 12th graders at a private high school in suburban New York, about an intrinsically interesting subject: ecology. I came away from that time with something that feels like post-traumatic-stress syndrome, replete with nightmares and anxiety attacks. I found teaching to be the hardest and, except for rare moments, least rewarding experience of my life. Every day I would walk into the classroom and try to motivate and teach a group of students who saw no need to achieve and did not want to learn. At best, their attitude was all business: I am the student, your valued customer, and you are being paid to help me get into college. Somewhere between their parents and the culture, no respect was instilled for either learning for its own sake or the teacher as a professional. I failed as a teacher, not because I couldn’t teach, not because I didn’t love my students and want the best for them, but because I couldn’t be a drill sergeant. Good luck, Emily, and if you, too, decide to flee the children, you might find fulfillment in a career like mine. I will teach people as I treat their pets, and love being a student again in veterinary school. Astrid M. Kruse Cambridge, Mass.
Zimmer’s Still in the Game George Will’s April 3 column on the indestructible Don Zimmer and the accompanying photo were so vivid I half-expected to be splattered by a spray of tobacco juice (“Don Zimmer’s 52d Season,” THE LAST WORD). While the 1962 New York Mets were anything but amazin’, I will always remember Zimmer’s nonstop hustle and daring. In one game, I recall that he excited the crowd by unexpectedly attempting to steal home. He would have been out by a mile, but made it a close play with a hard, head-first slide. Zimmer epitomizes the best of baseball, and Will has pitched a perfect column. Alan Blum Tuscaloosa, Ala.
Don Zimmer was my hero when he played for the St. Paul Saints in the American Association. Although I was glad to see him make the Dodgers, I was hurt not to have him playing at Lexington Park in St. Paul any longer. While playing sandlot ball, my friends “were” Duke Snider and Pee Wee Reese, but I “was” Don Zimmer. It is good to see that nice guys don’t always finish last! William Moore Stillwater, Minn.
The Pope Deserved More As a reader of your magazine, I am astonished and incredulous to find only two pages of coverage (the text actually amounts to less than one page) of Pope John Paul II’s recent six-day journey to the Holy Land (“Prayers of a Pilgrim,” INTERNATIONAL, April 3). I believe this is offensive to the intelligence and bona fides of your readers. Umberto Squarcia Parma, Italy
Decadent and Delicious I enjoyed your Periscope feature on doughnuts a great deal (“Dougnuts: The Long Road to Respect,” April 3). However, I do wish to correct a false impression that your article may have left. While Krispy Kreme may be an “upstart” in the Northeastern and Western United States, the chain has been an enduring part of the Southern culinary landscape for 63 years. Now that the phenomenon has spread nationwide, may I offer new Krispy Kreme connoisseurs this advice: the doughnuts are at their greasy, decadent best when they are absolutely fresh. For maximum pleasure, you should immediately devour them right in the store instead of taking them home. I am getting hungry just writing this! Yankees, enjoy your new taste of heaven, but remember, Krispy Kreme is not an “upstart” in Dixie. Philip Wallace Antioch, Tenn.
