Boomtastrophe

The backlash spikes every 10 years, when they reach another age milestone and the media react as though covering the simultaneous return of Elvis, Jesus, and Lee Van Cleef. A decade ago, as the oldest among them turned 50, Boomers assured us they still felt spry, engaging in such youthful activities as C-sections. At 60, save for keeping the nearest plastic surgeon's office on speed dial, they're more willing to concede time's march. But they'll have us know they refuse to simply retire and die like their parents, who survived the Great Depression, won World War II, and rebuilt America and Europe, then had the unspeakable desire to rest.

Envy, vanity, immaturity — whatever the precise cause, the Me Generation rejects the popular designation of its parents as "the Greatest Generation." Historians define the 63 million Americans born between 1901 and 1924 as the G.I. Generation; those born in the latter half of the period earned the "Greatest" tag for their heroics at home and abroad, and produced most of the baby boom. Nonetheless, their children brand them as meek conformists, contending that they waited to confront myriad social ills — racism and sexism, starched collars and Glenn Miller — until Boomers forced matters. Their efforts, argues Leonard Steinhorn in his valentine to Boomers, The Greater Generation, has turned the U.S. into "a more ... virtuous nation than at any time in our history."

Now entering life's liniment stage, however, those righteous Boomers continue to deride their parents' quiet approach to retirement. According to Boom, a book Orsborn co-authored last year about marketing to Boomer women, the G.I. Generation's golden years proved utterly leaden: "They looked old. They acted old. Mostly, the only individuals who even considered working past 65 were those who absolutely had to. The only future they faced was one in which a depressing decline was inevitable."

Jeepers, maybe Congress should have offered them tax incentives to kill themselves.

Boomers grew up defying their parents, an ethos that brought rich rewards, including teen pregnancies and genital warts. In that spirit, and with typically clamorous self-regard, they vow to "revolutionize" retirement. They intend to pursue second careers and volunteer, a go-getting agenda aided by a crop of Web sites, among them Eons, Boomergirl, and Second 50 Years, catering to their refined sense of manifest destiny. They plan to get their post-menopausal freak on. A wave of Boomerotica has washed over the publishing industry the last couple of years, carrying with it such saucy titles as Better Than I Ever Expected: Straight Talk About Sex After Sixty and Sex and the Seasoned Woman. Clearly, this is not their mother's retirement. Nor her spice rack.

A commune revival also has budded, with clutches of like-minded Boomers — nudists, Catholics — living in harmony, so long as nobody confuses one collective for the other. Small groups of men and women are "building" platonic families, sharing homes to save on bills, stave off loneliness, and take turns chasing those goddamn kids off the lawn. "Boomers are bringing a new approach to growing older," says Mary Furlong, author of Turning Silver Into Gold and founder of Third Age Media, a San Francisco consulting firm that focuses on the Boomer market. "We know we're not kids anymore, but we also feel there's plenty of reason to feel young."

Aging Boomers, sensitive to suggestions that they are, in fact, aging Boomers, aim to reshape the lingo of retirement, in the same way they spun draft dodger into conscientious objector. Out: senior, mature, elder. In: "That's still being figured out," Orsborn says with a laugh. "Baby Boomers don't even like the "baby' part of their name."

Here are a few ideas: substance abuser, fat, incarcerated.

Veering from their cultivated reputation as salubrious middle-agers, Boomers own the highest rates of drug use, suicide, obesity, and diabetes of any U.S. age group, federal statistics show. They also represent the fastest-growing segment of the U.S. prison population. "When I tell that to audiences," Males says, "I almost get looks of disappointment."

Males has written a handful of books in defense of post-boom generations, countering perceptions of them as the country's scourge and assailing what he regards as their parents' hypocrisy. As young adults, Boomers unleashed the libertine within; as parents, they vilify young adults for the same behavior, attempting to shackle them with zero-tolerance policies, abstinence programs, public curfews, and the everlasting war on drugs.

"Boomers have this thing where they say, "We gotta hate kids at the same time we try to behave like them,'" Males says. He points out that the crime rate among people age 25 and under has dropped in most major categories in recent years. "But Boomers just say, 'I feel like kids today are worse.' They knock down younger generations so they can feel good about themselves."

Disparage your parents, demonize your kids. Greater Generation, indeed.

Most Boomer parents fit into one of two groups. The first could be called the In Absentia-Ataris. Rarely present as their children grew up, these parents deserve the same amount of praise as Atari videogames for how their kids turned out. Johnny probably missed having Mom and Dad around — or one or the other after the divorce — but at least Asteroids and Space Invaders kept him company. He counts as one of the 48 million Americans born between 1965 and 1981, also known as Generation X, the original slackers.