Across Years and Oceans
I’ve been thinking lately about generations, especially my own cohort, Generation X, those of us born between 1964 and 1984 and the one everyone supposedly forgets about. And somehow, that’s fine with us. I recently watched a video called The Psychology of Gen X that articulated things I’ve felt but never quite described:
“They learned to hold contradictions. They just show up and do the work and have been solving their own problems since they were eight. They formed deep friendships out of necessity when parents were absent. Your friends became your family because they had to. They were raised to handle things alone; capable in a crisis, but they struggle with vulnerability. Before Google, knowledge had weight. Shaped by a specific moment in history when the Old World was dying but the new one hadn't arrived yet.”
That’s us. That’s me. And I’ve seen at least one serious argument made that Gen X might actually be the greatest generation, which I find mostly implausible, but also quietly satisfying to think about.
I just finished reading two fascinating books: The Fourth Turning and The Fourth Turning Is Here, by William Strauss and Neil Howe, the architects of their namesake generational theory. The central idea is of a 100-year saeculum, a long human life divided into four distinct turnings, each with its own mood and archetype, cycling through history like seasons. I’m a Nomad and it’s truly made me who I am, living as I do on the opposite side of the planet from where I was born.
Famously, Gen X children were often left to our own devices, the original latchkey kids. And out of that, and sometimes despite it, many of us built friendships that have lasted decades. I was lucky. I grew up in a good neighborhood, had parents who modelled what friendship maintenance looked like, and I still count people from first grade among my closest friends.
There are articles about the adult loneliness crisis every week, and when I read one I feel the same mix of gratitude and sadness. Gratitude because I’ve fostered and kept real friendships across years and oceans; sadness because I know how rare that is. One study found that a lifetime of social ties contributes meaningfully to healthy aging, which I rank alongside good sleep, plenty of water, and applying sunscreen religiously.
Arnold Schwarzenegger’s daily newsletter, The Pump Club, which is remarkably substantive, recently cited research showing that chronic social disconnection carries a mortality risk comparable to smoking 15 cigarettes a day. And the research makes a useful distinction: social connection operates across three dimensions: structural (network size); functional (whether you feel supported); and qualitative (relationship depth). Each one independently predicts health outcomes. The takeaway: one deep friendship does more work than five surface-level ones, so choose quality over quantity.
Politics is never far from my mind, and hardly a month goes by without a message from a friend asking if I have advice for leaving the country, especially as Gen Xers start looking at the face of retirement. I do find myself censoring my own commentary more lately. A long-time friend called me out after I shared a political meme in a DM, telling me bluntly: “Girl you don't even live here so step off. You chose not to be part of this country so you can judge it on your own time. We are not having fun.” Ouch. He’s not wrong, exactly. But also not entirely right.
So to cope, I read, voraciously. I finished 56 books last year and 28 so far this year. As we know, this is good for you: one piece from Big Think made the case that reading books regulates your nervous system. My fellow bookworms and I could’ve told them that. Books have been my rock since I was eight years old and solving my own problems, typical of a Gen X Nomad.
