After the Super Bowl I felt like a cultural expatriate, an unsophisticated untouchable nebbish. So I went to Facebook wondering what people I knew were posting about it. I scrolled down, down, down but not one post about the Superbowl. That alone says a lot about my bubble.
There was one. A friend had posted a meme prior to the Superbowl composed of the headlining halftime performers. The meme read, “If you’re stoked about the halftime show it’s time to book your colonoscopy.”
The juxtaposition of GenX’s relatively elderly halftime performers with the Millennial and GenZ commercials was head splitting. Every commercial break felt like a stream of consciousness dream that leaves you shaking your head and wondering what the heck that was about. Individually some of the commercials were entertaining and comprehensible, but there was enough of the rapid eye movement ads with nonlinear ideas and graphics running together without even a split second in between, that I began to question reality.
That was when I felt like a cultural exile. I wanted to call my dog over and comfort her in the way that really comforts me. But I decided not to subject her to it because she likes to watch television and I wasn’t sure what the fast stream of manic, loud, reality-defying images and soundtracks would do to her. But I hung in because the game and the narrative surrounding it was entertaining and suspenseful.
To be honest with you, I haven’t even gotten used to being bald. I didn’t lose my hair until I was in mid to late forties. Over the course of the pandemic the drumbeat of aging has been getting louder but nothing prepared me for the Super Bowl commercials this year.
I remember an evening watching television with my mom and dad when they were in their late seventies and a commercial came on which caused me to wonder how the heck they were processing it. I was afraid to ask. I think it was one of those bizarre perfume commercials that used to run more often than they do now, the ones with scantily clad men and women trading non sequitur lines that were supposed to be sexy but instead left you scratching your head. My parents were the Perry Mason and Gunsmoke generation and had no frame of reference with which to navigate such marketing. I am not there yet, but man, I can see it coming.
When I was thirty-four I took a job that placed me on the campus of The Ohio State University and suddenly I felt old watching the first year students stumble onto campus. I soon recognized that sixteen years was a distance I had to learn to cross. Now, looking ahead to my fiftieth high school reunion this year, I recognize that I am on an ice floe moving away from shore and have a choice to make. Learn to better connect or continue to drift.
It is a choice members of each generation need to make, over and over again throughout their lives. Learn to listen, watch, and apprehend what new generations are bringing and connect with them — or not. I confess the pandemic slowed my efforts but now I’m getting back in the game.
I wish we could time travel to the moment you stepped foot on the OSU campus! There have been good things in your life since then. But I’m guessing the fun years were the ones in C-bus! For the congregation, too.
SS, SYC, and the communities we were a part of was an idyllic time indeed!
Good evening, Cam,
We were invited to younger (40-ish) friends for a Superbowl gathering, or would’ve missed it entirely. I found the halftime thing both visually compelling and over the top, only watched out of the corner of my eye while having a conversation with an educator; and, Karen and I both found the commercials; ehm, well, I’d have preferred a colonoscopy for its beneficial outcome – and, indeed, saw the ads as frenetic as described by you herein. A couple of the 40-somethings thought the commercials captivating, and for me, that was a sign. I was considering stepping outside for a pipe of Virginia blend (one of the two times a year I light it up), but then it was time to head home to walk Tucker in the dark, cold and quiet. My fiftieth DHS reunion is rescheduled for this year, two years late, I’ve retained more of my hair than your pictures indicate, but not enough to comb, and after seeing the Superbowl, I’m considering the ice. But, back to the assessments of “what next” for Trinity carrying out its mission. And therefore seeking beneficial relevance in mission. Thanks for sharing.
Tim
You’re welcome. Glad you got home safe and sound.
What a great piece you’ve (once again) carved out for your readers. Thank you, Cam. My own internal workings reminded of a couple who clearly made the sort of connection you’ve described – and I fear that unlike Morgan and Caroline Epps – it will take me achieving their brand of self-comfort before I can begin to step into those waters. First of all, I will need a church, or some such gathering where diversity reigns. Second, I will need some work on memory; case in point? I can’t remember what the “second” was going to be. Next month – Spring’s first day in fact – will be the third anniversary of my seventieth birthday. Best wishes.
Happy birthday, again!