The End of Youth

What few shreds of my youth that remained in tact were recently unmercifully buried. Not that there are many left, (probably fewer than I acknowledge), but there are certain parts of everyone’s youth that remain sacred. More accurately, should remain sacred.

Admittedly, I pay very little attention to what is consider “in,” be it music, television, clothes - well anything. Part of getting older is realizing that such a concept is little more than the noise of life. To be honest, I find most of it painfully uninteresting. As such, it really shouldn’t be able to effect me in any negative way. Yet, it was pop culture that delivered the painful blow.

Now I understand, and respect, that everyone has a right to make a living. Having raised three children, there are certain financial realities from which one cannot entirely escape. Even the man who gave us “Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars” later released “Let’s Dance” to help pad his bank account. Still, there are limits - at least there should be. James Dean would have never introduced his new line of jeans at Walmart. The Grateful Dead didn’t add a disco set to their concerts in an effort to stay relevant in the late seventies. Miles Davis never tried to reach out to the Kenny G fan base to gain accessibility. The Rolling Stone remained above the latest fad……..

That was until last month when the iconic magazine made the philosophical leap and put the Jonas Brothers on the cover. Not that I have anything against boy bands, their smiling faces and cookie cutter hooks have been captivating pre-teen girls since the days of Pat Boone. They will always have their place; it just won’t be anywhere near my place. Had I missed something? Apparently, yes. Admittedly horror struck, I leafed through a copy and felt my youth crushed. Icons of bubble gum pop, endless fashion advertisements and the occasional political article that came off more self-indulgent than thought provoking filled the pages.

This magazine didn’t cover what was cool, they defined what, and who, was cool. This is the same magazine that didn’t put Aerosmith on the cover until after their third platinum album because they were worried that they might prove trendy. The Jonas Brothers, seriously? Who in marketing decided that the future of the magazine was to capture the kids watching the Disney channel?

The Rolling Stone of my youth had a defined place. Not just in culture, but even on the magazine rack. I stood for a moment, then did the only thing that I could; I placed my copy of the magazine next to the teen magazines where it now belongs.

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