Dear Gen X: Share the Real ’80s Before it’s Gone.

This week hit hard.

Ozzy, Chuck Mangione, Malcolm-Jamal Warner, and Hulk Hogan, gone? Say it isn’t so! Four icons from our Gen X childhood gone within days of each other.

Ozzy, Chuck Mangione, Macolm Jamal-Warner, and Hulk Hogan.

We didn’t know them personally. But it still feels personal. When we lose someone we grew up watching, listening to, or idolizing, it chips away a piece of our childhood. There is grief—grief for their families, yes, but also over losing pieces of our youth. Our memories are quickly brought to the forefront. We remember where we were when we first heard or saw these people, the concert or event and who we were with, sitting around the TV when their show came on, laughing together, singing together, and even pretending to be them. (I’ve seen teenage guys act out Hulk Hogan’s moves. Yikes.)

Why Personal Stories Matter

All of this reminds me how grateful I am to still have my parents. And how much I miss my grandparents. I never knew my paternal grandma and barely knew my paternal grandpa. My maternal grandpa left us while I was in high school. I loved him. My maternal grandma and I had such a sweet bond. She lived to be 94 and left us a priceless, small book she wrote just for the family. In it, she shared stories from her life—about growing up in the 1930s–’50s mostly, living through the Depression, and all the everyday things that may not make it into history books but make up real life. There was a great flood, Grandpa starting his company, having kids (my mom!), getting milk and ice delivered to the house, and more. I hear her voice when I read it.

That’s the power of a personal story.
Books teach us about history.
Stories from someone we love make it real.

Do you remember the K•tel E-Z Tracer? Merlin? Split Second?

L: The release of “Return of the Jedi,” the Challenger tragedy, stars in “Teen Beat,” the Mount Saint Helens eruption and my own 1974 JCPenney Christmas catalog. R: Do you remember styrofoam McDonalds packages, 8-tracks, Sun In?

Tangible Time Machines

And it’s not just the words—it’s the objects as well.

I have a room full of artifacts from our Gen X years: a rotary phone, a Walkman, a boombox, ’70s and ’80s magazines, catalogs, and TV Guides, Little People toys, cassettes, CDs, even a Merlin and an E-Z Tracer. When I show them to younger people today, I get to say, “This is how we listened to music,” or “This is how we spent our time hanging out together.” When people my age enter, their reaction is pure joy. Their childhood rushes back and they can’t help but share stories about having had, used, or wanted any number of these things as well as the people they cared about during that time. Every object becomes a story. Every song becomes a doorway.

Music Is the Shortcut to Memory

And the music—that’s where the deepest bonds form, because when we hear the music of our youth, we’re instantly transported. When we share that music with someone younger, we’re inviting them in.

Sometimes I’ll hear one of “our songs” coming through our teenaged daughter’s phone and I’ll perk up to ask about it. She’s often shocked that I know it. “This song is trending,” she’ll say. I’ll then share about when it was first popular and she’s usually thrilled for the new little bond. (Check out these places to stream the good stuff.)

Before It Fades

Maybe this week, as we mourn the loss of people we never actually met but somehow always knew, we can take a moment to pass something on—a story, a song, a game, a movie, a TV show—because as more and more of our generation’s icons leave us, we’re the ones left holding the stories. Let’s not let them fade.

Our daughter and I are planning to watch Mannequin tonight. It will be fun for me to watch again, as it’s been many years since I’ve seen it. It will be even more fun to watch her see it for the first time and from a different perspective. I look forward to hearing her thoughts as well as sharing mine.

Blessings and hugs to you, my Gen X family.
Stay gold,
Tami

P.S. Not a Promo, Just a Share

I don’t want this to be a big promotion and almost left this out, but I’m releasing a children’s book to help with exactly this kind of connection, so it seems appropriate to mention it. The book is The Day We Found Yesterday, and its message is just this—that shared stories are the best stories of all. Its illustrations are filled with ’80s music references and celebrity cameos, which will inspire shared stories right then and there. Just trying to do my part to help keep the good stuff alive. 😉