Old kids on the new block

Perhaps because it is almost Halloween or perhaps because I just returned from the "Lamda Chi haunted house" and my "fear neurons" were in a heightened state that in the time it took for me to utter these three words, "I remember when …" a proverbial chill raced down my spine. Terror as I had never experienced it before was within me, surrounding me and immersing me in an undeniable state of dread: ... I was becoming my parents. \nIt started simply enough. I logged onto my computer in my sorority house as I had done hundreds of times before. Only ... this time it was different. Instead of that all-to-familiar IU Web site I had grown so comfortable with, I was now face to face with a completely different image. It was one I was unaccustomed to, uncomfortable with and had difficulty finding my way around. In a word, it was new. Immediately I had an involuntary audio response ... no, not the word that can't be published herein. It was far more traumatizing and vulgar. I turned to my roommate and said, "I remember when the IU Web site was so easy and simple. How did it get so difficult and complicated?" In the space of seconds I had become part of an older generation here at IU -- the pre "new age" Web site. I was startled by the realization that I had reached an age when things seemed to be changing too rapidly. My older, more familiar ways" were being relegated to the past. How could this be happening to me? I called home in a panic and was supposedly reassured by my mom that "aging happens quickly, silently and without warning." That sounded to me more like gas pains than maturation. \nI then began to realize I've started saying and thinking, "I remember when …" a lot more often. "I remember when …" The Cosby Show, The Wonder Years, The Facts of Life and Three's Company were part of a ritualistic nighttime viewing, religiously watched by "my generation." \n"I remember when …" New Kids on the Block were the 80's version of NSYNC. \n""I remember when …" slap bracelets, scrunch socks, sambas, spandex pants and baggy sweatshirts with that little plastic ring was the outfit of choice. \n"I remember when …" Debbie Gibson was called Debbie Gibson, NOT Deborah Gibson and everyone danced around their rooms to "Electric Youth."\nAfter all this remembering, I recalled that my Mom was heading to her 30th year high school reunion. She seemed so happy and excited -- like a giddy high school girl again. At that moment I realized that aging is simply a state of mind. Old familiar ways are not to be forsaken or feared. They simply remain in the recesses of our minds to reassure us that aging means we've experienced moments that have evoked lasting images. Those images and memories make us who we are and should not be feared. Nevertheless, I'm still going to monitor the number of times I say, "I remember when ..." It still has an ominous tone.