Growing Up

There is not much out there that is as depressing a sign of aging as this one: The songs that you totally rocked out to as a care free high schooler are now being played on "Lite Rock" stations. Except maybe encountering a young person who has never heard or seen what were the most influential films of your generation.

Let's face it. I am not old enough to be complaining about being old. But the speed at which popular culture acts like a Karma Chameleon in that it comes and goes can really make a person feel obsolete and out of touch. Entertainment trends can change faster than a virus in a daycare center.

Some of the music I grew up with completely raised the ire of parents at the time. The complaints on some of these songs ranged from being satanistic to encouraging free sex. And then there was the ever popular parental gripe, "You call that music?" But not that long ago, I actually was flipping through the stations on the car radio and caught AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long" being played on the lite rock station with the call letters WNIC, whose advertisements have the slogan "Soft Rock Favorites of Today and Yesterday." I can't wait until they play "Highway to Hell" on that channel. I'll probably have a coronary.

It does slightly irk me that A) I seem to be generally clueless regarding "what the kids listen to" these days (though I'm much better at discovering and embracing new music and new artists than I was as recently as a year ago) and 2) "classic rock" seems to be poised to take over the genre once occupied by Perry Como and Andy Williams when I was young. I only pray that I never see Kiss and Aerosmith playing a festival in Branson, Missouri.

Similarly, it pains me when the "kids" have absolutely no clue who Ty Webb, Carl Spackler and Judge Smails are. It's mind-boggling to me that a twentysomething person does not recognize a Star Wars figure, particularly when it's a Boba Fett one. It's unbelieveable to think that there are people who don't realize Chevy Chase really was hilarious and that "Saturday Night Live" existed before Will Ferrell. It makes me realize that no one and nothing is immune to the passage of time, that everyone and everything eventually becomes a relic.

But that's okay, because when Eminem gets played on "Lite Rock" stations, I'll be laughing again. Much like the Perry Como fans are now.