I was born smack in the heart of the Baby Boom generation, but I’m not feeling quite in step with my age mates. Steps, in fact, are the issue. A recent real estate survey indicates that one of the most important selling points of a home to baby boomer buyers is one level living, preferably a ranch, at the very least a master suite on the first floor.
I’ll confess that, aesthetically, I don’t like ranches. I like the separation of sleeping and cooking/entertaining/working space. I like stair landings and gabled roofs. In the decades following World War II, craft, elegance, and beauty vanished from American architecture. The fascists lost the political war, but their minimalist, function over form aesthetic grasped a cultural revenge Now “ Vintage Mid-century architecture’”, as the tract homes of my childhood have been euphemistically renamed, is enjoying a new burst in popularity.
I’m not disparaging people’s taste (well, to be honest I am or I wouldn’t have a blog entitled “Wendy’s Opinion on Just About Everything”). But my point is not to disparage people’s taste, but their preoccupation with their arthritic knees. YOu see, the reason baby boomers want “one story living” is that they don’t want to stress themselves by climbing stairs>
This is pathetic! We are not talking about summiting Mount Hood here. We’re talking about climbing a flight of carpeted, guardrailled stairs to your bedroom. When my family climbed a trail in the Pyrenees a decade ago we were passed by many impatient sept and octogenarians clopping along briskly with their walking sticks. We had the same experience with elderly German and Italian hikers in the Alps. And no Italian hill village is complete without ancient ladies sitting on benches. How did they reach those benches. They climbed steep hills, often carrying a string bag full of groceries!
And middle aged Americans can’t climb up stairs to their bedrooms. Hmm.
My generation continually disappoints me in their failure to live up to their promise and their potential, which was evidently so much adolescent hubris. I mean, promise a revolution, end up with George W. Bush?
I always took Pete Townshends famous statement “hope I die before I get old” metaphorically. I didn’t think he actually wanted to die before he reached a certain birthday. Rather, he didn’t want to live as a wimpy drip, all youthful zest and energy gone. I know he’s still alive, now well into his sixties, and I hope he climbs stairs.
So at heart this is a metaphorical comment, not a rant against the aesthetics of ranch house. (even though I really do dislike them). Metaphorically, the time to stop climbing stairs is not when you’re tired or your knees hurt or when you think that perhaps ten years down the road you might be tired or your knees might hurt so you’d better prudently stop climbing ahead of time. The time to stop climbing stairs is when you absolutely, with all your strength and your last breath, cannot pull yourself up another inch. Not one second before then.
my generation
May 3, 2007I was born smack in the heart of the Baby Boom generation, but I’m not feeling quite in step with my age mates. Steps, in fact, are the issue. A recent real estate survey indicates that one of the most important selling points of a home to baby boomer buyers is one level living, preferably a ranch, at the very least a master suite on the first floor.
I’ll confess that, aesthetically, I don’t like ranches. I like the separation of sleeping and cooking/entertaining/working space. I like stair landings and gabled roofs. In the decades following World War II, craft, elegance, and beauty vanished from American architecture. The fascists lost the political war, but their minimalist, function over form aesthetic grasped a cultural revenge Now “ Vintage Mid-century architecture’”, as the tract homes of my childhood have been euphemistically renamed, is enjoying a new burst in popularity.
I’m not disparaging people’s taste (well, to be honest I am or I wouldn’t have a blog entitled “Wendy’s Opinion on Just About Everything”). But my point is not to disparage people’s taste, but their preoccupation with their arthritic knees. YOu see, the reason baby boomers want “one story living” is that they don’t want to stress themselves by climbing stairs>
This is pathetic! We are not talking about summiting Mount Hood here. We’re talking about climbing a flight of carpeted, guardrailled stairs to your bedroom. When my family climbed a trail in the Pyrenees a decade ago we were passed by many impatient sept and octogenarians clopping along briskly with their walking sticks. We had the same experience with elderly German and Italian hikers in the Alps. And no Italian hill village is complete without ancient ladies sitting on benches. How did they reach those benches. They climbed steep hills, often carrying a string bag full of groceries!
And middle aged Americans can’t climb up stairs to their bedrooms. Hmm.
My generation continually disappoints me in their failure to live up to their promise and their potential, which was evidently so much adolescent hubris. I mean, promise a revolution, end up with George W. Bush?
I always took Pete Townshends famous statement “hope I die before I get old” metaphorically. I didn’t think he actually wanted to die before he reached a certain birthday. Rather, he didn’t want to live as a wimpy drip, all youthful zest and energy gone. I know he’s still alive, now well into his sixties, and I hope he climbs stairs.
So at heart this is a metaphorical comment, not a rant against the aesthetics of ranch house. (even though I really do dislike them). Metaphorically, the time to stop climbing stairs is not when you’re tired or your knees hurt or when you think that perhaps ten years down the road you might be tired or your knees might hurt so you’d better prudently stop climbing ahead of time. The time to stop climbing stairs is when you absolutely, with all your strength and your last breath, cannot pull yourself up another inch. Not one second before then.
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