Pax Plena

Summer 2024 has been quite the summer, though you might be hard-pressed to tell given the fields surrounding the house here in Cotton County. They look about the same as they always do this time of year. Freshly plowed fields lay open and quiet during the blistering months of summer. But these will soon yield to a flurry of activity brought on by late summer planting and fertilizing. Come late spring of next year, it’ll be harvest time once again. And then the cycle will repeat. Just like it always has since the land was first worked, some seven generations ago.

Of course, this languid pace is no match for the 24/7 news cycle. In the course of the same time that our fields have lain empty, waiting for end of season planting, our country has witnessed a political assassination attempt; we’ve seen a sitting President of the United States unceremoniously drop his campaign for re-election; and while the Olympics have begun over in Paris, the opening ceremonies were all but mired by coordinated arson attacks. All of these headlines are just within the past few weeks.

It’s fair to say time moves at a different pace here. But not in every way. I’ve spent a good deal of my time this summer with my Son, Nephews, and Nieces. They range in age from 13 years to 1 year old, putting them all squarely in the camps of Gen-Z / Gen-Alpha. Having long considered myself to be the “cool” uncle/Dad, I was shocked to discover that my son and miscreant nephews (ages 11, 13 and 10 respectively) were using a language that I simply did not understand while we casually played video games. This led me down an entire rabbit hole of linguistic exploration, turning first to the sage pages of Parade Magazine to try and figure out a) what the hell these youngsters were saying, and b) whether or not I should be offended (I should have been offended – they called my shoes “mid” (average, mediocre, of poor quality).

Apparently, somewhere between the time I showed my older nephew the finer points of throwing a spiral pass with a football, and when I introduced my youngest nephew to Call of Duty, the whole generation up and created their own vernacular that the rest of us cheugy (not at all trendy) folks have yet to fully figure out. Major L (loss or fail) on our part. Not only this, but they went and replaced some terms that I still hold near and dear to the heart. Terms like “word,” which for us millennials meant an all-purpose affirmation or simply “yes.” You might be sad to know, dear reader, that word / yes have now both been set out to pasture, replaced by the trendier, non-cheugy term “bet.” Bet you didn’t know that.

And on the more avant-garde end of the Gen-Z spectrum, my son has been harping about Skibidi Toilets for months now. I have no idea where this came from and it honestly never occurred to me to “search it up” with any sort of detail. But this is apparently a thing. Granted, a hideous thing featuring human-headed toilets, but a thing nonetheless, and a thing that is incredibly popular among the Gen-Z set. So much so that the YouTube videos from whence it came have some 17 billion views and counting. The surge in popularity has left the franchise (can we even call it that?) set to receive the Michael Bay treatment and we can expect to see a “Skibidi Toilet” feature film directed by him in the near future. Bet you didn’t know that either. Bet.

It’s enough change to make my old head spin and I’m only 41. I suppose that makes me certifiably ancient to a Gen-Zer, but it doesn’t feel all that old to me. But when I think about the dirt and the land, and the cycle of planting and harvesting, I suppose that even here, and in my own life, change is the only constant. At the start of the summer, I had a relationship end unexpectedly, on less than good terms. A very short time later, I learned that my living arrangement in Indiana with my ex-wife, aimed at taking care of our son would also end because she was beginning a new relationship. Two’s company, three’s a crowd as the saying goes. It was certainly glum days here for a while. I don’t think anyone particularly enjoys a relationship breakup. And of my divorced friends, I can’t say that I know of anyone who gets overjoyed when their co-parenting arrangement collapses around them. But, shit happens. What can you do?

What can you do?

I’ve thought about that question a lot this summer. And it occurs to me that my Gen-Z friends might be on to something. It strikes me that they did two things that were rather quite profound while the rest of us were busy glued to our devices, none the wiser to the looming linguistic changes in the offing. This isn’t to say that they weren’t glued to their own devices. Odds are, most of the new lingo was developed over a combination of texting, gaming chats, and video messaging with friends as opposed to actual, physical human interaction. But they did pull off a fairly remarkable feat.

First, Gen-Z walked away from the phrases, words and expressions that didn’t work for them. I don’t know that “bet” is a better alternative than “word” was. But “word” didn’t work for Gen-Z for whatever reason, so they left it behind. Periodt (as the kids say). There were no harsh feelings. I can’t say for sure that there was even any thought given to the vernacular that they were replacing. It’s not like there was a Gen-Z convention where the new terms were settled and agreed upon. It just happened. They simply let go of the lingo that didn’t work for them. And that seems to suit them all just fine.

The second thing Gen-Z did was to create something entirely new to suit their own purposes. We Millennials, Boomers, Gen-Xers and olders can all wonder where the hell Gen-Z came up with their words – cheugy comes to mind – but the terms are unique. They’re different. Different terms for a different generation. And the words selected suit the new generation that’s using them. Again, no disrespect was intended to the old lingo (well, maybe some if you ask my nephews). The new words just came about and were widely adopted. Something new when the old didn’t work.

And I think that’s the secret sauce with change.

Even when we can’t see change occur, that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening, as frightening as that may seem. It’s inevitable. Sure, to the extent we can anticipate a change, we can prepare for it. That’s all well and good. But it’s the unexpected changes that seem to send us reeling. It’s the unexpected changes that leave us the most unsteady. For theses sorts of changes, I think Gen-Z’s example bodes well. It’s okay to walk away. It’s okay to go and to create something new. No disrespect or guilt required.

In my case, I need to do both. My co-parenting vision for my son changed even though I didn’t see the change coming. My task is to walk away from that old vision just like Gen-Z did from the old lingo. It’s dead. It’s not coming back. So, as much as I had hoped for that vision to come to pass for my son, I need to let it go. The outcome was never guaranteed. It’s an outcome that never will be. It’s not my fault. I have nothing to feel guilty about. There was no disrespect in the process. It’s simply time to walk away and let it go. Gen-Z has taught me that that’s okay.

The second thing I need to do, is figure out what the hell a new vision looks like. Deciding to walk away is only half the enterprise. The second half is figuring out what you replace the old with. My Gen-Z friends created their own lingo and way of relating to each other after leaving words and terms that didn’t work for them behind. I’m leaving behind a dead vision of co-parenting and now I have to figure out how I can maximize every second that I spend with my son. The co-parenting won’t really be a thing, being nearly bi-coastal, so what will the new relationship dynamic with him look like? How do I want it to look like? What are the unique memories that he and I can make together? These are fun questions to consider that he and I can answer together. We’ll create something new that suits just the two of us. Gen-Z taught me that that’s okay.

I suspect when I look out at the field tomorrow, it will look pretty much the same as it does today. Open rows of sod ready for planting when the time is right. Eventually change will come to the land too and the cycle will repeat. But I think when it’s time to plant this year, I’ll have a look out the window, sip my coffee, and smile. I’ll think about my son, about Gen-Z, and all the change we cannot see. And I’ll think about how that suits me just fine. Thanks for the lessons, Gen-Z. No cap.