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Published
in Gulf News, March 28, 2006
The mirrors
that walk
At
a
recent party, once all the revelry was done, a small group of us
sat down and did something I haven't done at an outing for a long
time. We had meaningful discussion.
Looking
back on it, it was the most enjoyable bit of the evening for both
my wife and I. "That's because everyone there was a Seventies
child," she said.
A series
of social quirks has ensured that my wife and I, both products of
the Seventies, have a primary group of friends that is much younger
than we are. These Eighties children all have similar characteristics
that make them quite tiresome sometimes.
Our
theory is that Eighties children were born without an appropriateness
filter. They seem to say anything that comes to their heads, no
matter how offensive or foolish. They regularly make personal remarks
such as: "That's a really bad shirt." Or, "Your hair
looks so silly."
And
in spite of the ones we hang around with being bright and well-informed,
we are rarely able to have meaningful interactions. Conversations
become competitions: people start trying to show off, or belittle
others. The ease with which beliefs or points of view are brushed
off is startling. Criticism or praise is rarely measured - everything
is either "Fabbbbbulous!!" or described in a manner no
newspaper can print.
That's
why the conversation at the party meant so much to us. There were
several strong opinions expressed, but nobody got defensive or facetious.
All points of view were taken into account. People spoke to advance
the argument, not to demonstrate how knowledgeable they were.
Of
course, this blanket accusation of lack of self-censorship, causes
some worry. Could it simply be the callowness of youth? Were we
as on edge in our early twenties? I do remember, in those days of
hair down to my shoulders and torn jeans, that there was a black-and-whiteness
to my world that seems to have faded away.
However,
I don't remember, in me or my friends, the Eighties childrens' ease
with which they say hurtful things, or use an offensive tone of
voice. And, to my surprise, after recently confronting a regularly
rude Eighties child about it, she wasn't even aware of these transgressions.
Maybe
it's a mark of the increasingly informal nature of social interactions.
Maybe it's a terseness born of lack of time and ease of long-distance
communication. Maybe it's an increasing focus on the self. The Eighties
children I know may have little sensitivity towards other people,
but have sensitivity in plenty for themselves. They dole out criticism
freely, but suddenly shut shop and withdraw wounded when given it
right back.
Why
continue to meet them, you might ask. Apart from our social circles
being too entwined to stop, we don't want to. Most of the time they
are delightful company. We laugh a lot. We cook together. We play
Scrabble and drink tea into the night.
But
sooner or later, somebody says something, and ruins the mood. Or
the conversation becomes a competitive display of wit or pop-culture
references. Arguments rarely acknowledge other points of view. We
recently differed over the movie Love Actually. While I tried
to forward my reason for loving it, the reaction from the other
side was a dismissive, "It's such a bad movie, why would anybody
like it?"
But
when I withdraw wounded and seethe at this unnecessary rudeness,
my wife laughs at how much I let it get to me. When I think about
it, I suspect it's because I'm being given a harsh picture of what
I must have looked like when I was younger.
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