Class of a Decade

It’s hard to believe we’re approaching the first decade of the millennium. The last day of the 20thcentury, our nation was uncertain if we’d make it to 12:05 a.m., with fears of that Y2k bug debunking mainframes worldwide subsequently ending our existence. But fortunately, it was like any other New Year’s: resolutions were made, attempted, broken, and pushed back to next year. Still, what we didn’t expect were the changes we’d encounter.

The class of 2010 was just mere sixth-graders, adjusting to junior high school: lockers, homeroom, gym uniforms, and more than one teacher. We were the guinea pigs for reality TV, captivated by the realness of contestants being shipwrecked for cash on a deserted island. What was once a budding trend is now the norm for television networks, ranging from the captivating (The Amazing Race) to the crude (Flavor of Love and other VH1 dating romps). Our obsessive attraction to life drama expanded with the advancement of technology.

In the Information Age, everything is documented in real time. The ability to receive, send, and duplicate information with the click of a button has been our greatest achievement, and one of our greatest challenges. As teenagers we helped eradicate pay phones as cell phones gave us the chance to ask “Where You At?” on the fly. Now we just don’t make calls: we share our lives through photos, messages, and live footage. We followed the historic re-vote of Gore and Bush, yet could not escape the devastating coverage of the 9/11 attacks. Now what happens in our backyards cannot only be seen by snoopy neighbors, but anxious viewers in front of their YouTube screens.

We followed the rise and fall of Napster and are reaping its rewards: Mp3s, iTunes, and digital ring tones. We witnessed corporate history and the spawning of a media mogul monopoly, when Time Warner bought America Online. The merger of the cable TV giant and the people behind “You’ve Got Mail” opened the doors to relentless new endeavors we today take for granted. Emails became texts, texts became statuses, and now statuses are tweets.

We journeyed into the second year of the Iraq War and sparred with each other on whether or not the government was being honest with us. We had friends and classmates serve their country in honor of our freedom. Now we struggle to properly care for their livelihood as the war follows them home. John Stewart became a beacon of truth amidst the myths of the war. And Michael Moore became public enemy #1 with his provocative documentary investigating the government’s role in the new war on terror.

In the last four years alone, a culmination of all these events has occurred. Viewers now contribute as a part of the entertainment with various online outlets replacing the television as the main source of information. Facebook opened the door for countrywide communication without leaving one’s neighborhood. The war continues with the possibility of an end in sight as a new administration takes the helm—an administration led by a bi-racial, Hawaiian-born, Harvard Law School Chicagoan with change on his mind.

In ten years we’ve witnessed history, and we’ve relived it. The gains and losses, big and small, created a better, more unique America. And as we prepare for full blown adulthood, finalizing our plans post grad, what we do will determine what changes will occur in the next decade. Class of 2010 this is our year to show what we’re made of: a design of a decade in action.

~illist90skd

How long is a lifetime?

Is 29 years enough? I think so, albeit regrettably. My big brother died at the tender age of 29. He leaves behind a cuddly son with satellite ears and curly hair. He leaves behind a loving family. He leaves behind a supporting cast of friends and associates. He leaves behind smiley-faced memories. He leaves behind a legacy. So was his life, as some would say, “cut short” or did he live long enough?

According to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, the average life expectancy for a male is roughly 75 years. Put in these terms, my brother only lived a fraction of his life. However, because I have never been one to place a lot of stock in chronology when it comes to valuating life’s moments, I will cast that statement aside. Age does not determine much at all—it is merely a metric that helps us communicate meaningfully with one another. In this context, it should become clear why I think that my brother lived “long enough.” He laughed. He cried. He experienced the entire spectrum of the human emotional experience. Sure, he never “got married”, owned a house, or reached similar markers that seem to communicate to others that one is “living life to the fullest.” But who cares. These markers are social constructs, not sure-fire indicators of a life being lived to the fullest.

I never looked at life this way before. Prior to my brother’s death, I viewed the human life span as a marathon—so anything short of that, say a 10k or a half-marathon, was tragic. The funny thing is that 10k and half-marathon runners get the same thrill and enjoyment from running their races as the marathon runners. Moreover, all runners, irrespective of race length, have to cross the finish line.

When we place too much stock in chronology, we panic. We fear that if our life happens to be the 40-yard dash that we may not have achieved all that we should have. Fuck that. What, exactly, do you need to achieve? I think that a life lived to the fullest is a life that makes a lasting impression—even if that impression affects only one person, even if it only takes one day. So how long is a lifetime? As long as it takes…

~ Donny Brook