PSU Magazine Winter 1997

reason, their parent never pushed their heart rates to a scientifically determined 70 percent of maximum for at least 20 minute three time a week. Never pumped weights 12 repe– tition in ets of two at lea t twice a week. Never grunted, "No pain, no ga in." And just look at the way our parents ate, boomers say, shaking their heads. Breakfast was bacon and eggs, not fiber-enriched, low- alt gran la. Dinner was pork chops and gravy, not five servings of vegetables and fruits with a poached skinless chicken breast. Dessert was apple pie with ice cream, not a carefully measured four ounces of fat-free frozen yogurt. Yet de pite a lifetime of such deplorable health habits, say boomers, their parent are active and relatively healthy. With their own focus on nutrition and fitne s, boomers figure to retire as a generation of Jack LaLannes. Nonetheles , after scanning the actuarial tables, boomer women expect t outlive their pouses by a good chunk of time. Pragmatically, they're already carefu lly nurturing friendships with other women so they'll have companionship in their golden years. Perhaps they'll even live in communal homes, a la the television sitcom "The Golden Girls." T elevision plays an ever-present role in the live of boomers. From the women who tell each other they'd never be a "June leaver"– 'nuff said, allusion understood-to the men who expect Star Trek's "Dr. McCoy" to wave a device over flabby flesh and make them firm– nods all around-baby boomers rely on pop cu lture to carry its share of a conver ation. When one focus group began argu– ing whether the future would be post– apocalyptic or futuri tic, a boomer wit observed, "So that's it. The future gonna be either the Flintstones or the Jet on -either way it's a Hanna Barbera cartoon." The future may be up for grabs, but boomers are clear about their past and present. Ask them if they see any changes between their lives when they were 20 and today, and you can guar– antee rueful laughter. No more all nighters, partying down, or mind-alter– ing experiments. Now they can barely conceive of staying out past midnight, drinking more than a glass of wine with dinner or, God forbid, smoki ng. Burning the candle at both end in their twenties was fun, they say, but their youth, especially effortless fitness, was wasted on being young. "I didn't even think about exercise when I was 20," says one boomer. "I just lived." Now instead of dancing all night, they schedule 30 minutes for exercise. Instead of nonchalantly consuming Fritos, fried chicken, and candy bars, they carefully crutinize labels and reli– giously calculate their intake of "good" fat and "bad" fat. Instead of a given, fitness is something to be actively managed. When they have time. Balance is the boomer ' biggest daily concern . How to find time for careers, kids, and spouses. One man sighed that all he wanted was 10 minutes fo r himse lf after he walked in the door. Instead his young children beg for attention, his wife wants to share her day, and he feel bound to fulfill hi fami ly obligations. Ten minutes, he felt, was too much to ask for him elf. A dding to the pressure is the gnawing fear that despite their be t efforts, they could at any moment be downsized. Bang, with one little pink slip, everything knocked out from under you. Little more than a word in dictionaries 20 years ago, tre ha become a living companion for boomers. Everyone feels it. Everyone talks about it. No one knows what to do about it. It has become almo ta disease, like cancer. WINTER 1997 PSU MAGAZINE 9