On social media saw a fellow commentator extol the occurrence of three of her nieces graduating high school. In their respective photographs, the whole trio looked just the way one should upon crossing from juvenile life into adulthood. If there were trepidations, and, yes, these should be expected, they were masked by appearances of deep breath/one foot in front of the other self-possession.

Despite silly arbitrary conditions we now place on 18-year-olds – unable to legally drink alcohol, can’t gamble or buy lottery tickets, and, depending on the state, smoking is prohibited either until 19, 20, or 21 – at the universal age of majority we make them eligible to vote, fully liable for contracts they sign, permit them to enter marriages in every state, as well as let them commit to the armed services minus parental consent.

Wonderful. Only in America can those who we recognize as “adults” be legally prohibited from drinking toasts to themselves at their own weddings or after signing possibly life-altering contracts or hoisting celebratory libations after returning from deployments into harm’s way.

It was better when my Boomer cohort turned 18. While our parents recognized us as their “babies,” they also realized at 18 we had become full-fledged responsible adults.

My transition was blunt. Throughout my life, my father had called me “boy.” Once I turned 18, he stopped.

In Boomers’ cases at least, our elders must’ve looked back onto their own dives into the pool. For many of them their progress meant navigating through the Depression then World War II.

No generation of Americans has endured any similar passage since. And if our successors are lucky, none will.

It’s not hard to imagine how after our parents had prepared Boomers for entries into less arduous adulthoods, they shared easy thoughts aligned with “batter up!” and “swing hard!”

Doubtlessly all of our parents expected us to be “sluggers.”

Several weeks ago, I read a silly newspaper article. Well, it was silly to me.

Some mother out on the Coast was found guilty of hosting beer bashes for her teen children and their friends. Reading this, I judged her a responsible parent. She remained vigilant as her children and their guests imbibed. Also, there may’ve been, okay, there were, some sexual shenanigans involved. Of course there were. Randy teens acting on inhibitions which have been obliterated by hops and barley is a natural result of this rite of passage.

Don’t object. Look in the mirror. Now remember.

Ours now a society which has scrambled its priorities. The hostess naturally received a draconian maximum sentence.

Sympathizing with the parent, I hoped reason, rationality, and leniency would chop her sentence to time served and a maybe a few weekends of collecting can off roadsides – at most.

Now at an age where fellow 60-somethings are starting to die off with age related maladies rather than through stupid-shit behavior, I examined parts of my own early past. Thankfully my parents and my friends’ parents raised us to enter adulthood with solid foundations. It’s impossible to imagine any of them raising us into young adults who extended our adolescence and juvenile years into our mid-20s.

Or later. As is done today.

Each of the aforementioned three high school graduates struck similar poses. Effortlessly standing straight, every woman’s chin was slightly uptilted. Clear eyes focused above and past the photographer. Must also commend them for looking resplendent in mortar boards and gowns.

Frankly while I admired them, I also didn’t have to imagine the figures they presented would also intimidate good portions of their male cohorts. How did this happen? What has society been teaching boys these last several decades?

During my adolescence and juvenile years, the women’s movement reshaped male perceptions of “the fairer sex.” It’s a miracle I didn’t succumb to schizophrenia. Father, the master of our house, was a patriarchal sort who stressed primogeniture even though he had no idea what the word meant. My sister is older and smarter than me. Yet until she started accumulating degrees, accolades, and titles her status in his eyes sat beneath mine.

Outside our home, girls were increasingly less fettered. They were encouraged by women who’d rebelled. Their own early advances had been hindered by hidebound males and timid women agreeing to restrictive orthodoxy. Progressive women did what could be done to turn that on its head.

Reflecting on our formative years, we boys then weren’t indoctrinated by “natural superiority over girls.” Rather, we were taught the girls among us weren’t going to be servile but our competitors. Maybe even rivals during adulthood.

Wonder what the more Neanderthal fathers thought of that.

Of course, it diminished resistance and eased acceptance seeing the girls around us as just as capable, if not often altogether better. Seeing that in guys juiced competitive spirits. Viewing it girls revved it up further. And maybe after some initial uncertainty, because there was always going to be some residual impulse “not to shake the fragile egos of rough tough boys,” the girls picked up the pace. That made us all strive harder, boys and girls. That distributed strength throughout.

In certain eyes, the women’s movement could’ve been seen as not only elevating women but further sharpening men. In the years since, though, this societal benefit has been sourly twisted. It’s now been labeled a threat. To men. If the alarm is hysterical enough, it’s an existential challenge to up-and-coming Anglo males.

Who told them they’d never need to excel? Who told them they’d be able to coast through life?

Until entering middle age, I never recognized the expanding disparity between the sexes. That women were advancing farther and faster than men. After all, who surveys college campuses and determines why there are fewer males than coeds?

For straight, brainy, ambitious men this would be a terrific ratio, no?

Instead, these alerts mainly arise loudest in workplaces. Although that said, there have been upticks of this in graduate programs. Mostly medical schools. Never in any of the heavy thinking divisions like philosophy. Let us wonder why.

In fields prone to contention, women increasingly leapfrog men until they’re bodyblocked by those same frustrated men. Similar to minorities who’ve vaulted over Anglos. Formerly dismissed out of hand, new unaccustomed faces have by dint worked harder just to be twice as good in order to be regarded as “equal” by the mainstream. These candidates are likely to have swerved through minefields unimagined and therefore never encountered by Anglo males.

Yet when selections for advancement are made, these rightly based on having been earned because in real life companies and academe are disinclined to promoting anyone who could damage bottom lines or the institution’s reputation, sore losers’ retorts are “a woman/minority stole my job!” Never is the “thief” accurately portrayed as the superior pick. That truth would crumble the accusation.

In this era, it’s always a “DEI” choice. Diversity, Equity, Inclusion. DEI, the bugaboo of the lazy, those raised to believe themselves entitled; the salve of oxy stupefied less dynamic Americans. Now more so than ever thanks to the scab, his criminal administration and MAGAs who all nurture white fright.

If the above “victims” ever had to endure the same impediments of those they unfairly blame for earning their spots, they’d really have cause to whine about unfairness. Or maybe not. As that bunch proves daily, it’s weak on introspection.

Back in the 1980s upon the ascendence of Ronald Reagan, plenty of Republican campaign ads (print, radio, TV) used the trope of a white man denied promotion because the goose had been awarded to an undeserving [minority to be scapegoated here]. Having known plenty of non-Anglos who hustled and scuffed like fiends to attain toeholds in occupations habitually bestowed upon Anglos, watching those ads filled me with indignation.

Who would be gullible enough to believe them!?

Okay. Maybe not gullible, though certainly ready and willing to swallow them. Because the truth getting stuck in throats would be far more painful. Therefore, better self-deception that avoids culpability than struggling with acceptance of one’s inadequacies.

So, I gazed at the three recent high school graduates a fellow social media correspondent had posted. The three women projected confidence, which I admired. Their radiance reminded me of my Class of ’77.

Few of us graduating then knew what we’d ultimately do or where we’d venture. Certainly, none of us knew where we’d wind up. And alas, a few got snatched only several steps onto the path.

Who today can envision going no farther in life than 18 or 19? And then only remembered by others at ages no older than those?

What most distinguishes present and past high school graduates is the latter stood ready to spring with assuredness. Some even did so with aplomb. We knew we’d advance.

To graduate high school now means entering a fraught adulthood. The reassurance that buoyed us in ‘77 doesn’t exist for this year’s class. Not that the Class of 2026 is doomed, but only a relative few may ever go far.

That’ll be bad for whatever America will become.

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