Generation eXit

Thirty years ago, the undergraduate Class of 1994 -- I’m writing specifically about my class (430-ish strong from Wheaton College in Massachusetts) and generally about all the Classes of ‘94 -- left campus to follow our dreams of career, family, money, and making a difference. Little did we know we’d disappear.

Our graduation speaker, CBS anchor Connie Chung, related a dream in which she shat in a garment bag, and Wheaton president Dale Rogers Marshall, in her speech, quoted a line from a column I’d written recently for the school paper … some trite bushwa about feeling old and tired and wise and stupid. 

The author, at college in 1994.

The Class of ’94 was born in 1971-72, putting it squarely in the middle of Gen X (1965-1980). We were told we’d be the the first generation in history that would be less successful than our parents, that the careers we’d end up in probably didn’t exist yet, and that we’d have to be ready to switch jobs every eighteen months or so. When we graduated, Bill Clinton was in office. He was a breath of fresh air compared to the twelve years of Reagan-and-Bush before him but also several different flavors of terrible.

In the self-reported ‘Class Notes’ section of the Wheaton Quarterly, the mid-to-early Nineties classes have never been well-represented. The same names, the same faces. It stands to reason that some of that absence is due to the hard feelings engendered when Wheaton went co-ed in 1988, but some of it appears to be a vanishing act, willing or otherwise. ‘Famous’ alumni from the time period are thin on the ground. We’ve done OK for ourselves, but we’re not, ya know, leading.

Maybe it’s the Gen-X thing.

“I thought we would have done more by now,” said my spouse, driving home from my 30-year Wheaton reunion last month. 

She’s also a Gen Xer, part of the so-called ‘slacker generation’ with Elon Musk (1971) and Mark Zuckerberg (1984). World leader-wise, we get Justin Trudeau of Canada (1971) and Emmanuel Macron of France (1977). Ten years ago, only one of the world’s most populous countries had a leader seventy or older. Now, eight of them do, and the new president of Mexico, Claudia Sheinbaum, is a Boomer. 

The average age of the U.S. Congress has been increasing since 1981, and the 118th Congress is the third oldest Congress since the late 18th century. In the Senate, only 10 of the 100 senators are under 50, with a median age of 65.3 years. The average age in the House is 56.8 years. The youngest Baby Boomers will turn 60 this year, the oldest are almost 80. The oldest Gen Xers will be 60 in 2025; the youngest a sprightly 45.

Beyonce (1981) and Taylor Swift (1989) are both Millennials. Dave Grohl (1969) is Gen X, as is Alanis Morrisette (1974). Both Bjork and Beck are ours, thank goodness.

Gen X literary luminaries include David Eggers (1970), Zadie Smith (1975), Gary Shteyngart (1972), Colson Whitehead (1969), and Celeste Ng (1980). Colleen Hoover (1979) and J.K. Rowling (1965) made it in, too. Chuck Palahniuk (1962) and the Jonathans Letham (1964) and Franzen (1959) are fuckin’ Boomers. So is Brett Easton Ellis.

Where are the rest of us? Where is the Voice of Gen X? Where are its leaders? What is our rallying cry? We had all kinds of dreams and ideas when we graduated … didn’t we? We had rocked, right?

The fact that Gen X is oft forgotten has become a running joke at this point, almost click bait. But maybe we made overlooking us too easy. For years, we went home after school, let ourselves in the house, made a snack, and sat down to watch television. Are we still doing that? Or are we waiting too patiently for it to be our turn, maybe not realizing that the Boomers aren’t going anywhere and that the Millennials are coming up fast?

Does it matter?

Or is it, like, well … whatever?

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