skwirl707

Tag: GenX

  • This year I ditched the sombrero and made plans for my birthday.

    For my birthday this year, I decided to do something completely for me. Every year my wife tells me to plan something, and I usually just shrug—“Sure, let’s do dinner, but nobody better fraking sing to me or plop a sombrero on my head.” This year, though, I made actual plans.

    I wanted to go to Astoria and see the Goonies House, the Kindergarten Cop school, and Stephanie’s house from Short Circuit. I also had my sights set on the Next Level Pinball Museum in Hillsboro, Oregon. And you know what? We made the plans, and we stuck to them.

    Growing Up Different

    I grew up in a family where “manly” meant grunting, farting, fishing, and hunting. My brother fit right in. My dad loved that. Me? Not so much. I loved books, toys, games, sci-fi, movies—you get the point. I wasn’t your typical reservation Indian kid.

    My grandparents raised us a lot while my parents worked hard—my mom excelling at everything she touched, my dad grinding in a lumber mill so we never had to go without. I’ll always be grateful for that.

    But birthdays and Christmases? Those were mine. G.I. Joe figures and vehicles, Star Wars ships, Hot Wheels, Legos, and most importantly… Atari games.

    The Golden Age of Arcades

    Atari ruled our living room, but the arcades ruled my imagination. My two favorites were Starbase 1 and Tiffany’s Ice Cream Shop.

    Starbase 1 had it all—black carpet, low lights, and row after row of glowing cabinets. Defender, Asteroids, Centipede, Joust, Afterburner, and my all-time favorite, Mr. Do’s Castle. People argued that Dig Dug was better. Nah. Watching a clown chuck a ball and erase enemies? Way better than pumping them up like balloons.

    Then Tiffany’s came along. Suddenly we could play Smash TV and have a hot fudge sundae. Absolute paradise.

    Growing Up… and Growing Back In

    Of course, life crept in. Adulthood buried the toys, the games, the nerdy passions. I told myself I was too old. For years I only let myself peek in—dropping quarters at a Tilt arcade in a mall, or browsing eBay for toys I “shouldn’t” buy.

    But on my 52nd birthday? I leaned in. Hard. I drove six hours to relive 80s nostalgia and spent the day in an arcade, shoulder to shoulder with my little brother and my oldest son, mashing buttons and grinning like kids again. Honestly? Best birthday I’ve had in decades.

    The Point

    Never stop loving the things you love—no matter how old you are.

    I get just as much joy out of building Legos and models now as I did when I was 10. I can lose hours in front of a video game and come away just as happy as ever.

    Society will try to tell you to grow out of it. Don’t. Follow your passion, and life will be far more enjoyable and fulfilling—I promise you.

    Take the time to be who you are.
    And enjoy the things that make you smile.

  • Summer Then vs. Now: A Comparison of the Times

    Ahhh, summer.
    That magical stretch of sticky freedom where rules evaporate like sidewalk puddles and time is marked by the slow descent of a half-melted Fudge-sicle. But somewhere along the way—between rotary phones and retinal scanners—summer changed.

    Let me take you on a little compare-and-contrast journey from my childhood in the early 80s vs. kids today, and see how we went from sunburns and BB guns to Wi-Fi passwords and SPF 9000.

    Getting Outside

    1983 Me:
    Mom kicked us out after cartoons with a “Don’t come back until the streetlights are on!” No phone. No GPS. Just a vague threat of heat stroke and a backpack full of questionable snacks.

    2025 Kids:
    “Hang on, I need my smartwatch, my phone, sunscreen, bug spray, hydration tracker, and helmet.”
    Oh, and a ride. To the park. Three blocks away.

    Transportation

    Me:
    A Western Flying Mag bike with 5 Spoke Rims and one working pedal. If it squeaked, it still worked. Bonus points for Cards in the spokes.

    Them:
    Electric scooters with LED rims, GPS locks, and a Bluetooth speaker blasting Kidz Bop remixes. Meanwhile, I’m still trying to figure out where my bike went after 1992.

    Water Games

    Me:
    A garden hose on full blast. Possibly a sprinkler attached with duct tape. If you were rich, you had a Slip ‘N Slide—if you were poor you had Black Plastic sheeting, and if you survived using it on grass filled with rocks, you now qualify as a Navy SEAL.

    Them:
    Three-hundred-dollar inflatable water castles, foam-cushioned splash pads, and a team of adults supervising hydration breaks like it’s a triathlon. They have filtered water balloons now.

    Food & Snacks

    Me:
    Lunch? Probably a Mayonnaise Sandwich pulled from a backpack with a Capri Sun so punctured it could double as a water gun.
    Snack? Whatever we could find in the couch cushions or from someone’s older sibling with a stash of Now & Laters.

    Them:
    Organic granola bars, bento boxes, parent-approved sugar-free popsicles, and gluten-free everything. I swear, if I hear “kale chips” one more time I’m starting a rebellion.

    Entertainment

    Me:
    Saturday morning cartoons. Then the TV belonged to your parents. You want entertainment? Go build a fort out of lawn chairs and regret.

    Them:
    Streaming 24/7 on five screens at once. YouTube in the left eye, TikTok in the right, and a 3D augmented Minecraft world projected onto the wall. No commercials. No rewinding. Just chaos.

    Safety Protocols

    Me:
    Sunscreen was a suggestion. Helmets were for “the weak.” We played lawn darts, ran barefoot, and rode in truck beds. Somehow, we lived. Probably out of spite.

    Them:
    Kids today are safer, sure. But also… let’s be honest… a little softer. Like, if a kid from today had to survive one unsupervised 80s summer, their iPad would file a missing child report.

    Final Thoughts from the Old Skwirl Tree

    I’m not saying it was better back then…
    Okay, maybe I am.

    But I am saying it was different. We were little feral sun-lizards with popsicle-stained lips and permanently grass-stained knees. And somehow, in the chaos of it all, we grew up.

    So this summer, if you catch your kids or Grandkids inside for the sixth hour straight, hand them a half-charged walkie talkie, a water bottle, and say: “Be home by dusk.”

    They might look at you like you’ve lost it.

    But someday, they’ll be the ones comparing summers.

    And you?
    You’ll be the legend who survived the Slip ‘N Slide of Doom.