Playwright Notes
Every generation worries about the younger one. It's as old as the human race, I suspect. All of us in our turn have laughed at the dire predictions our parents made about us.
I remember my mother walking through the Haight in l969 with tears in her eyes. "The children," she wailed, "what will become of the children?"
Then she searched for the cause of such anarchy, what kinds of parents could let this happen? Some people said it was Dr. Spock. I thought it was an enlightened generation.
My mother would have none of it, because she believed that parents had power. And that power should be used to mold the next generation, period, end, exclamation point. And so she ruled the roost with an iron wing, as it were.
She was a 50s woman. She committed herself totally to the house and family, tried to do everything right, in spite of the fact that she found parts of the job less than satisfying. She hated cooking, was exhausted by cleaning, and was often exasperated by caring for children. And so the implied lesson she taught me was to focus on a role outside the home. That could bring you peace.
I know she worried about me. But I also became what she had in mind.
Pretty much. Certainly the most important parts of my life, I owe to her. And while she may have had reservations about me, she also knew I was fighting the good fight.
After all, I didn't live in the Haight. I went there on weekends.
Though I must admit I liked it, because it reminded me of what else the world might be. Even if this was not the world I wanted, it invited me to imagine my own world, and that made everything else about my life possible.
Since that time, I've lived through and been a part of four revolutions. Each one of them was important--racial justice, the anti-war movement, women's liberation and gay rights. Now at this point in my life, I am without a revolution. For the first time.
When I look around at the people who should be causing the trouble, I see a generation turned in on their children. And a country consumed by consuming. Forgive me if I worry. I'm supposed to.
Ours was a generation that thought we were raising the next generation to accomplish more than we did. Instead, they're more like our mothers. And that is a frightening thing. Naturally, I protest. But I do so with a certain knowledge that these parents are working awfully hard. It's daunting their focus, the energy they expend. And maybe they ARE raising superior children.
One thing's certain, when their children are parents themselves, this generation of hyper-parents will be worried. What ARE they doing with their KIDS!
--Julie Jensen