They say a generation is twenty years. Twenty years ago I went to the Fuller Centennial in San Diego and wrote this three part series. I'm tonight reading a partially overlapping account.
Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters were boomers, somewhat post beatnik which was Jack Kerouac's generation. The two met in New York as a part of that bus trip, Leary's group the next stop. Sometimes a Great Notion (Kesey's next novel after Cuckoo's Nest) was being released.
Pegging the time. I was in elementary school, starting in Portland, winding up in Rome.
My generation was / is late boomer, pre Generation X. When our group had families, those were called Yuppies (young professionals) a play on Hippies. Various neighborhoods gentrified or whatever. Jersey City sure took off, since my day in the early 1980s, as a high school teacher walking to work along Kennedy Boulevard.
I took my daughter to New York and Long Island City that time, to meet with Kenneth Snelson and to take in a ceremony honoring the friendship between Fuller and Isamu Noguchi, a sculptor. Shoji Sadao was another in that crew, a workshop / studio, across from where the Noguchi Museum is today.
My mom is aiming to be in New York City by tomorrow, for only for a brief stay. She'll be back through on her return. I'm meanwhile soon to set out for the mid-west on company business. My daughter is now twenty, a next generation.
The Princeton P-rade is worth catching, if you get a chance. The classes parade in order, though with a 25th year group in front (I think is how it goes -- I was there for that one). You see time go by really quickly, a review. The alums get younger and younger, turning into underclassmen at the end. I'm not sure what other universities do that. Pretty interesting.
The "march through time" metaphor (is it a metaphor? -- seems pretty literal) is pretty cliche. Or is it the march of time? Whatever. "Time is the only dimension" was one of the tropes I remember from Synergetics. But then time and size go together. One needs room to rattle around.
Given I was in Rome during the tumultuous 1960s, I had a somewhat different take on things than my three-years-older wife. She had stayed in North America, mostly in the southeast, joining the Portland scene before I did.
My return to Portland, in 1985 (as I've pegged it, I hope correctly) was after my parents left Bangladesh but then moved to Bhutan, where dad continued his career as a planner / designer, now of education systems, later in Lesotho. When my wife was hired as the bookkeeper for Center for Urban Education, I was away in Bhutan. On a next trip, she and Alexia joined me.
Anyway, if you're curious about my autobio I've got more on file. Check it out.