The Basement Generation

Yes, I have seen it. The image is frightening to be sure, but it is our current future. Riddle me this, faithful (and cheating) readers: what do you get when a whole nation of gen x parents decide to either completely ignore their kids OR hover over their kids constantly, making sure that not one bad grade gets on their report card or not one mosquito bites their precious arm? You get...the basement generation!

   Now before lots of dander falls off the ruff, I will say that I'm a gen Xer and I am far from perfect, just ask my wife for a complete list of details! However, I have goals...the main one getting my kid on her own by the time she's 18, latest being 18 and two hours. I want her to go to college, or military, or some trade school...whatever will help her go and succeed and make something of herself. The secret to this is, making her realize she can accomplish things.....and what the consequences are when she doesn't try. The main consequence is, of course, not allowing her and her Pauly Shore-looking boyfriend to live with us while he "finds himself".

   No, I see that all around me as it is. The frightening thing is, a lot of those back-home dwellers are in MY generation! And then we come to the hoverers...some may call them HELICOPTERS...those parents who seem to have developed an extreme fear that any outside influences, like flies, germs, toy guns, teachers, wheat, black and white movies, and Disney stuff produced by Disney himself, pose a threat to their child's well-being. Their only solution is to fight all of these environment and self-esteem killing influences with all their might. They de-germ every molecule in the house, fight any grade below A (because, hey, the teacher obviously did not teach the material right or recognize the child's "giftedness", but I'll get into that after retirement), and get rid of child-killers like metal playground equipment, gymnastics units in P.E., and that wretched piece of trash ranking just above Congress...that's right, keeping score so that there are winners and losers in sports, because losing can mean, OH NO....FEELING BAD ABOUT YOURSELF!!!!

   Let's look into the future, now that I'm done vomiting. Let me create a child to demonstrate my vision...with a cute name with a French, sophisticated hint...Pathetique! This wonderful, precious, gifted, yet overly bullied by outside forces (like real life) child, graduates and earns (through lots of angry phone calls and blackmail) a diploma. Next, she goes off to college where the professors expect a smidgen of literacy and critical thought. When the kid can't perform to college standards, Pathetique weeps uncontrollably because this has NEVER happened before. Mom and Dad always fixed this. Hey, that's it! Call mom and she'll fix that professor good. Mom calls to find out that, strangely, while her influence worked in public and free education, tuition-based education works quite differently. Pathetique gets her schedule switched so he/she can have a nice professor who understands her better. Professor B proves to be as evil and conceited as Professor A. Mom then calls the dean to demand why these sociopaths are still employed. After the dean finishes his 5-minute laugh and refuses tuition reimbursement, Pathetique 's folks shell out more dinero for a tutor to help her brush up on some things. The tutor realizes, within ten seconds, that his wide-eyed and innocent charge needs to repeat 3rd through 12th grade in order for college to mean anything, then refuses to refund the $5 consultation fee.

   Therefore, Pathetique is forced to finish the semester on her own wits and brains...which meant lots of texting to complain  about evil professors in basic math and English 101, and all those other courses that make her have to put down her phone and listen. In December, once all the finals are taken and thoroughly bombed, Pathetique comes home with all her stuff. During the holidays, the folks make all sorts of calls, threats, and demands to other colleges who'd be "lucky" to have Pathetique as a student. The trouble is, none of the automated systems bother to put them through to an actual human. Then the parents sit for a few days watching their precious Pathetique using up valuable household oxygen by watching the Disney Channel with a blank stare, putzing on her cell phone with a blank stare, and wondering aloud how she can make a million dollars in a few hours.

   Mom declares loudly that an injustice has been made by the school system toward her little gem. Dad finally, after almost 20 years of just nodding, tells mom to shut up once and for all and that they created a moron with no marketable skills. Mom weeps in agreement, and they both decide that kicking the girl out would be cruel, so they fix up half the basement (this is an East Coast family, by the way, so basements are likely), with the laundry and hardware section near the stairs, and Pathetique's half is near that hatch (doggie door) that opens to the back yard. A wall is built to separate the 2 sections. The girl can come up for Christmas, her birthday, and the grandparents' visits. She is fixed up with a microwave, a small fridge, and her bedroom furniture. After much pleading with the cell and cable companies, they give the family the new "basement child" discount so the bills don't rise too much. Food is dropped through the hatch once a week. In other words, the girl is being hidden from the world because, well, Pathetique is well-named (Dad has to explain this to Mom a few times before she gets the translation after all these years). She's their child, but is an embarrassment and that's their fault for kicking the wrong ass for too long. The tax deduction is still there because Pathetique will be a dependent for the next several decades. Also, by keeping her locked away in reverse Rapunzel fashion (below instead of above), no suitors with her brain power will ever invade and try to move in and create mini-Pathetiques.

   By the way, making a girl as an example was just coincidence. I laughed at my own name creation so I just went with it. Boys have suffered from Pathetique disease as well.

   This is what is coming down the path, parents. The basement generation is already here, we just have to wait until the end of 12th grade for reality to set in. I can see it now. My wife and I are over at a friend's house enjoying social time when we hear an animal sound from below. Without batting an eye, I just nod and ask, "Basement child?"

They nod sadly and say, "It's Pillow's 30th birthday, so we're allowing noise tonight." Then they mockingly put their hand to their faces. "Oops, was that cake made with gluten? Our bad!" Then we all share a hearty laugh.

For those helicopter parents that do not have a basement, have a crew build you one fast. In fact, borrow Richard Donner's blueprints for a "Phantom Zone" if you can, so you can avoid the food bills. However, all of this trouble and expense can be avoided if you let your child experience the world without your input every three seconds. This way, he/she can "find" themselves at a younger age and be ready. Just keep the hatch side of the basement available just in case.