Finding ourselves
Adaptation of ‘lost generation ’ demands rejection of traditional work ethic
MATT PETERSON is a
senior English and news
editorial major and a Daily
Nebraskan columnist.
What’s wrong with young people
today?
Elder generations claim that this
generation has rejected the value of the
traditional American work ethic.
This rejection is readily apparent,
so I won’t argue with reality. But the
contention that this trend is “what’s
wrong” is false.
Contrary to popular belief, it was
not naivete but necessity that brought
about this adaptation.
The criticism of complacency has
bombarded my generation since before
the term “Generation X” was coined.
Kids today have no direction.
No one appreciates the value of an
honest day s work anymore.
Young people are more concerned
aboutfinding themselves than finding a
job.
And for a generation that originated
the indifferent clarion calls of “whatev
er” and “anyways” as popular means to
settle arguments, perhaps this apathetic
moniker is warranted.
Such criticism stopped being news
five years ago and, thus, doesn’t belong
in a newspaper, despite the contentions
of condescending senior editorial
boards across the nation.
Rather, it is the purpose behind this
collective indifference that demands
notice, and the depreciation of the tra
ditional work ethic is a deliberate step
toward that positive adaptation.
I Since I usually contain such
abstract musings to my own head, I feel
the need to interject with a disclaimer
I despisesophomoric, self-impor
tant writers who use omnipresent terms
to assume the personal to be universal,
using the word “we,” when they really
mean “I.” So I wouldn’t crawl out on
this abstract limb if I didn’t think it was
important And revealing what is popu
larly considered an ineffectual trend to
be a movement unto itself is important
enough to take that risk.
It is popularly accepted that the
progeny of the ’70s and ’80s will be the
first generation since the Depression to
be less successful than the preceding
generation.
I don’t doubt it
Many contend that this deflation of
the standard of living is the fault of the
economy, and blue-collar work doesn’t
command the wages it once did.
Others point to the devaluation of
the work ethic, and the popular pursuit
of getting the most for doing the least -
1 also a popular pastime among college
students, I understand.
But I would argue that young peo
ple today simply have a different con
cept of success and have been more
stubborn than past generations in
avoiding the disillusionment of this
ideal.
Generations past have placed the
family and the means to support that
structure above all other pursuits. The
traditional Puritan work ethic was nec
essary to sustain those family values.
As the selflessness of the traditional
value structure was questioned by self
seeking individualism, divorce and
abortion rates climbed and “dysfunc
tional” became a household word, as
well as a way of life in many house
holds. Baby boomers began to suspect
the legitimacy of providing for a family
as a lifelong pursuit; many suffered
mid-life crises as a result.
Young people today are sim
ply bearing the mistakes of past „_
I generations in mind, and caution
is being mistaken for indiffer
ence.
Members of the contemporary
“lost generation” are wary of being
railroaded into unhappy marriages and
dead-end, cubicle-bound jobs because,
in many cases, their parents were.
This is to be expected in a nation
where the skilled work force is shifting
from primarily physical to largely cog
nitive labor.
People are increasingly making a
living with their heads rather than their
hands, leading to the necessity of a col
lege degree in the job market Today,
one in five Americans has a college
degree, and that figure will continue to
increase as the intellectual demands of
the market grow.
Considering this labor shift, a
phrase once used to encourage
the traditional work
ethic - “idle hands
are the Devil’s
play
things”
is in
need
of
topical revision: Idle minds are the
Devil’s playthings.
I think; therefore I am. I think too
much; therefore I suffer.
Indeed, many young people today
find their only outlet for misery to be
the neurosis of self-abuse, contracting
such afflictions as alcoholism, drug
addiction and eating disorders.
Unfortunately, this is the price to be
paid for die generational trend toward
self-seeking introspection.
Elder generations contend that
young people today cannot compre
hend true suffering, as all those when-I
was-a-boy stories confirm. But while
the economic hardships and social
injustice of these tales
have
often been overcome, we can never
escape our own thoughts.
Communist philosopher Karl Marx
was a firm believer in the satisfaction
gained by a job well done, thus estab
lishing his commitment to a relatively
basic belief: Work sets us free.
This simple truth is the key to
releasing Generation X from the sort of
pervasive individualism that has been
carried to a neurotic extreme.
The traditional work ethic has
inevitably - and legitimately - been
rejected, paving die way for a new phi
losophy, linking the pursuit of passion
with the necessity of work, to be —"
defined. ,
Just how that phi
losophy will be
defined is up to us...
provided we get off
our lazy asses and
do something
about it
. —
WF Shawn Ballarin/DN
A tough nut to crack
Squirrely ASUN write-in candidate uses columnists ability to increase publicity
TODD MUNSON is a senior
broadcasting major and a
Daily Nebraskan columnist.
Pop quiz, hot shots. Guess the
question I’ve repeatedly said no to
lately:
A) Hey Todd, you wanna go see if
AquaNet is really flammable?
B) Would you please let me know
why they call you Dr. Thunder?
C) Are you gonna run for presi
dent again?
D) It looks like a long way down.
Why don’t you jump first?
If you picked “C, “ you’re eligible
for a night out with Todd, some donut
holes, a vintage Meatloaf Cassette and
the back seat of a 1986 Toyota. What a
feeling! Just send in a glossy 8x10,
and my assistants will start the screen
ing process.
As much fun as making a mockery
of die Association of Students at the
University of Nebraska election was
last year, the reasons not to run out
weigh any legitimate reasons to run.
First off, I’m currently working on
a documentary on this year’s ASUN
election, which, if things go well, vill
be on NETV sometime in the near
future. Since we’ve been following the
candidates around more often and bet
ter than any professional stalker could,
they might stop being so gracious if I
suddenly jumped from behind the
camera and started to taunt them.
Also, Bobbi and Jordan, my
esteemed partners in this endeavor,
would slice me open with a Garden
Weasel and stomp on my innards if I
flew off the deep end and sabotaged
our grades on the aforementioned
documentary.
Second, being president of ASUN
is hard work. Not in a working-in-a
coal-mine sense of hard, but really
I hard. I’m a slacker to the nth degree.
The two mix together about as well as
oil and water. During her reign as the
Suprenre Ruler of the university, Sara
Russell nas spent only about 50 hours
per week in her office, just to make
things a little bit better for the apathet
ic slobs around her. Being trapped in
an office like that much means per
sonal sacrifice. And just like Homer
Simpson, all work and no play make
Todd something, something, some
thing. Go crazy? Don’t mind if I do!
Finally, six years of college? No
thanks. As much as I enjoy living
below the poverty level, the dream of
making more than minimum wage is
one I hold dear to my heart. And, if I
want to retire by 30 like I’m planning,
I’d better start pumping gas soon.
The ASUN election will be all day
Wednesday, and after following both
sets of headlining candidates around
for almost a month, I’ve come to the
conclusion that they’re just like
Playboy Bunnies - pick whomever
you choose, and I guarantee you can’t
go wrong. They are all that good. Or
as Jordan would say, they’re all
“bread.”
What’s really interesting about
producing a documentary of this sort
is the research involved. A while back,
I dug deep into the annals of the DN
and found out something most inter
esting.
I wasn’t the first crackpot with the
surname of Munson who ran for
ASUN president.
Way back in the spring of 1980,
for those of us too young to remem
ber, or who weren’t alive for that mat
ter, (man, I’m getting old) a mop
topped fellow by the name of Tim I.
Munson ran for president as a member
of the LSD Party.
Judging by his ragamuffin appear
ance, I’d wager that LSD stood for Let
the Students Decide, not Lysergic
Acid Diethylamide, that crazy
postage-stamp flavoring.
The controversy he stirred up
made my antics of sunshiny days and '
lollipops look like the work of an altar
boy who had a little too much sugar.
He was quoted like this across a
front-page headline. “Munson: I
would be UNL’s Christ.” Also, he
wanted to turn UNL into an academic
institution of the highest degree - no
pun intended.
He finished off in third, just like I
did, and went on his merry way.
I literally spent hours this week,
trying to hunt die fella down in hopes
ofhaving him be the special guest
today to see what has happened to him
since his political days at UNL.
Lately, though, I’ve grown accus
tomed to learning the world in which
we live isn’t exactly perfect. My 7
Layer the other day was way too heavy
on the lettuce side of things, and Tim
I. Munson is a bit hard to contact.
The only facts I had were that Tun
Munson was an attorney who was last
know to live in Omaha. But lo and
behold, he returned an e-mail. Turns
out he’s A-OK and living in a cabin
out in the West. He didn’t respond in
time for this week, but look for an
interview with him in the coming
weeks.
The Internet: Not just for pom...
good for stalking, too.
If you’re still reading this, good
news, you’ve reached the good part.
I’ve got this talent, you see. It’s a
good one, not good enough to get the
name Dr. Thunder, but still, it’s pretty
good. Just like Yar in “The
Beastmaster,” I have the ability to
understand what animals say and to
communicate with them.
The other day, I was on campus
when a squirrel came over to talk. The
rabbits told him I was the chosen one.
It seems Ricky has lived on cam
pus for a few years and feels it’s his
time to make a dent on how things are
run around these parts. He isn’t a stu
dent, since squirrels can’t register, but
has listened in on many classes here al
UNL. He’s a squirrel who appreciates
the classics, a good poli sci course and
The History of American Jazz. Ricky
claims to have learned so much living
on campus, he attests his GPA would
hover around 3.5. Damn rodent is
smarter than I am.
When our discussion turned to
matters a bit more political, Ricky
stood up tall and proud on his hind
legs and said, “Hey brotha Todd, you
think you could help out a little squir
rel like myself as I run for ASUN
President? I’d throw my hat into the
ring, but the bookstore doesn’t sell
hats for squirrels.”
What could I do? I am the chosen
one and all, and as the chosen one, it’s
my obligation to help out the critters
only I can talk to. So reluctantly, I had
to say yes.
BIG TIME DISCLAIMER: The
following is Ricky the squirrel’s opin
ion, not Todd’s. Todd is merely helping
Ricky get the word out to students
more normal than Todd who can’t, or
don’t, talk to animals. Todd is in no
way for or against Ricky.
As ASUN President, Ricky vows
to move classes where they belong,
outside and up in the trees, so all
God’s creatures can get the education
they deserve. He also wants to see
more trees on campus, especially ones
with those tasty acorns. He also wants
build a “Truman Show”-style dome
over UNL and keep the temperature at
a consistently mild 77.5 degrees year
round. The money to start construe- «
tion on the dome would come from a
huge slash in the ASUN budget.
Squirrels need nuts to get the job
done, not money.
Finally Ricky gave me the money
he’s squirreled away the last few
months (this pun was intended) to
make hiin a few signs in support of his
cause, since squirrels aren’t allowed in
Kinko’s. Nor do they have the reach
needed to hang signs. So, with a
$ 1.57, allow me to introduce Ricky
the squirrel as a write-in candidate for
ASUN.
I still think the candidates running
are rock-solid as all get out, but in the
sprit of good-natured fun; fere’s
Ricky.