On the Cusp

On my way home from work today, I stopped to talk to a couple of friends who were out for a walk on this fine Spring day. One was born the same year I was (in fact we met each other in the dorms our freshman year of college), and the other was born two years later.

We discovered that we all three feel left out of the named generations. Even though we are sometimes counted at the tail end of the Baby Boomers, we're really too young. And even though we are sometimes counted as the beginning of Generation X, we're really too old.

What should we call our liminal generation, we wondered? (And, if you can believe it, just after I typed that sentence, I discovered that someone on Yahoo Voices nailed the issue in this post and believes we should actually be called the Liminal Generation.)

I think my neighbors and I came up with a much happier name.

We were born in the 60s, so of course it should follow that we are Love Children or part of the Love Generation. Even though, technically, none of the three of us were born to hippies. And even though, technically, all of our parents were married when they had us and would thus be mortified at the various implications those names hold.

So, um, okay, maybe not. We'll just have to float along in our liminality. On the cusp. Undefined. Unnamed. Which actually suits me. I don't like to be labeled.