Daily writing prompt
Share what you know about the year you were born.
It’s March 17, 1986. Big hair reigns supreme. President Ronald Reagan roams the Earth. Metallica’s Master of Puppets had been released only weeks earlier. Dionne and Friends top the pop charts with the Burt Bacharach joint, “That’s What Friends Are For,” a cover collaboration featuring Dionne Warwick herself, Gladys Knight, Elton John, and the boy wonder himself, Stevie Wonder.
The New York Mets had just won the World Series, their first since 1969, only notable for the fact that I am a Mets fan since birth, thanks to the curse bestowed upon me by my father and his father before him. The classic flick Back to the Future leads at the box office, while the much less classic flick Police Academy 3: Back in Training trails behind.
At around 2:30 in the afternoon, a soon-to-be-named newborn emerges from a surgically placed exit sign, feet first. The legally labeled Andrew Jason enters scene, first and soon-to-be oldest child of Mark and Frances.
In my very rose-colored glasses, the mid-to-late 1980s were the last great bastion of the America we would come to recognize as the “American Dream.” We had survived and prospered through the Industrial Revolution and the coldest times of the Cold War. The wide use of the internet was still a glimmer in Al Gore’s eye, and the iPhone, the game changer, was still two decades away from damaging the natural evolution of our children’s brains.
A suburban life was within the grasp of almost anyone who wanted one. Inner cities were on the upswing after a decline in the late-70s and early-80s. Life felt pretty secure for this very white and very privileged nugget of a human. Now, I wasn’t “trust fund” privileged, but my father had a secure job, and we had enough to get by so that my mom could stay home and be a full-time mother to me. These days, I don’t think that would be possible.
We were starting to see the wealth gap increase and, soon, explode. A tidal wave that never managed to trickle down despite the promises of our political leaders. The tech revolution, which some thought would even the playing field, seemed to widen the gap even further.
Do I long for a return to 1986? Hardly. I, like almost all of us, have become spoiled by the instant access to almost anything. The internet has been so seamlessly sewn into my life that, at this point, it wouldn’t be worth the trouble to pull the threads away. But do I long for a simpler time? I do. And the older I get, the more I long; the deeper my nostalgia runs.
The truth is, we’re never going back. AI is assuring us of that. Some argue that AI will simplify our lives, and I can foresee a future where that is true, but what are we sacrificing in the process?