MY MICROGENERATION

My microgeneration, whose members I can identify by their posture (good, not great) and eye contact (emotionally intelligent without being pushy), was born in the heady summer between the catastrophic Chernobyl nuclear disaster and the invention a new kind of Slinky—plastic this time, and hot pink. You could also get hot green, hot blue, or mixed.



My microgeneration, whose voices register on a special frequency that I am able to pick out of a crowd, was born during the première of the hundred-and-fourteen-minute film “The Goonies.” Thanks to the synchronous birth of my microgeneration with this movie, none of us is actually able to see or hear “The Goonies” when it’s on. We just think we’re watching a Christmas M&M’s commercial from 1998.



My microgeneration was born between the invention of one computer and the invention of another, better computer. (Inventing better computers used to take a long time.) Otherwise, we’re more or less like everyone else.



My microgeneration was born in that heady summer when the Fox television network held auditions for the role of Becky 2 (or Shitty Becky, as my microgeneration would come to know her), on the TV show “Roseanne.” When I’m speaking with a member of the Shitty Becky generation, I can tell instantly. We’re all about crop tops and leaving the room without any laugh lines, just like Shitty Becky.



My microgeneration was born in the twenty-minute interval between Kerri Strug’s two vaults in the 1996 Summer Olympics. We’re all Gemini, Aries rising, and I just bought a moped. Not sure what everyone else is up to.



My microgeneration was born in the slim ribbon of time between lunch and early evening on September 3, 1984. I think. My mom’s story hasn’t been totally consistent over the years. Sometimes it’s four-thirty in the afternoon; sometimes four-thirty in the morning. Sometimes Aunt Nancy was there; sometimes it was Aunt Susan. So I can’t say I know for certain. But, really, in the end, isn’t every generation defined by its secrets?