*dayum, * but there’re some old farts in here…
at 51 i guess i’ll have to settle for honorary old fogey.
the divemaster was born in 62 and he considers himself a boomer, albeit at the
tail-end of what is generally considered the boomer years which, iirc, was 1945 to about 1962. that sound about right?
i was born in '56, so i’m a heckuva lot closer to it than he is. and i simply ignore teenagers in general. it’s better that way for all of us. 
Wow! A little clique that will have me as a member!
Born a year after Pearl Harbour, I remember lots of things from 3 or 4 years old that my kids and grandkids refuse to believe actually happened.
Been fortunate enough to have waited until 30 to get married and to have 2 kids born 8 years apart, and now with grandkids around and more probably coming soon, I have been putting off fogeyhood.
I keep up with movies, games, and music through them, even when I don’t like what I see and hear.
I remember most how proud I was when momma let me make my first phone call. Pick up the giant handset and wait for that nice lady to say- “Operator, to whom would you like to be connected?” You see, we didn’t even have a number and the operator knew everyone in town. Later, our number was 888, easy to remember.
I remember calling home from the theater ( where the movie was 9 cents and you could watch it as many times as they showed it ), because it was raining. The operator told me " Honey, your momma isn’t home right now, she has gone to visit Mrs SoandSo, but I will ring her there and tell her to come pick you up, OK, Sweetie?"
I remember when “gas wars” involved tumblers and not Tomahawks. Hard to imagine how much money they were making at 29 cents a gallon.
I couldn’t afford the new LED watches and watched the prices of calculators kill the slider ruler market. My aunt uses her leather case for the later intrument for her camping knife.
I’ve stored data on 5 1/4" disks and bought a real modem which could transmit at 2400 baud.
One of my first fogey moments was when a party of kids keep up awake at the campground as they listen to Euro technobeat, and I couldn’t tell if they were listening to the same song all night or not.
If I could afford a lawn here in Tokyo, you would be damn sure that I’d keep you off it.
Ah, memories… I recall the matinee at the Park Forest theater was $1.25–and it had cartoons and previews (no newsreels, though). NO ads (thank god). I also recall getting 75 cents and hour, upped to a dollar, then $1.25 for babysitting. My first job was at a pizza place for $1.90/hour–minimum wage for 1977.
You could get a Tiger in your Tank for about 31 cents/gallon–and then the energy crisis hit and it went all the way up to 69 cents, then over a dollar! Gas lines, stagflation, Watergate, ERA–these are what provided the background for my childhood. Jimmy Carter wearing a sweater and telling us all to turn our thermostats down, and turn off unused lights–I still do this. The hostage crisis, Earth shoes and pet rocks…
I remember moms driving up to the train station to pick up their husbands from work, and then sliding over so that the man could drive home. I remember my mom not being able to get a credit card in her own name–and being thought peculiar because she wanted such a thing(against bank policy)… We’ve come a long way, baby.
IFG = International Federation of Geezers?
We’ll need a logo. I’d suggest leg warmers rampant on a Nehru shirt over crossed Velcro sneakers, and a motto. Anybody know the Latin for “Damn kids!”? The initiation needs to include a creed, which is recited to open and close all meetings. Lyrics from any Grateful Dead song would probably do.
Funny, no one has mentioned party lines.
I say you must be able to name at least four of the original mouseketeers to get in the club (Annette, Bobby, Karen, and Cubby) 
Oh, and some of you may remember that Bobby went on to a long-standing career as a dancer on the Lawrence Welk Show. That’s real fogeydom. 
Hmmm.
As a non-fogey (in body, if not mind - I’m 25), my vote presumably doesn’t count, but I would humbly submit that being able to recognise American-market cars sold overseas is a poor test for membership in an “*international * fogey club”…
Aren’t we required to dislike foreigners by virtue of being old fogies?
I think the logo should be the top of a steering wheel, with two hands gripping it, and two eyes peering out through the opening. Motto: Amn-day Idskay!
To the list of requirements to the IFG may I suggest that proficiency in the use of an abacus is an essential.
I would also suggest that the title of the esteemed and most august body be re-named:
Federation of Old Geezers (International) = FOGI
I second that emotion!
Brilliant!
Yep, you’re a fogey…
But don’t worry- my 72-year-old dad doesn’t really understand what gay people are either.
And does anyone under the age of 35 understand or even know about Pig Latin?
I like the Federation. I’m a charter member…
I am SO there. Sign me up.
Seems like it was January 1945 to November 1964.
My mother made much of the dates, and I, once upon a time, was chagrined to have them verified . . . somehow, by something that I considered a reputable source at the time.
(Mom was born in July of '44. My ex was born in September of '45. I was was born in June of '64. She needed to be of an older generation than he, and somehow him being 19 years older than I, but of the same arbitrary Generation, allowed her to hold her head up in public.)
I guess I’ll fit right in. I can go from being the scary Room Mom to being a Fogey.
Same kind of stuff.
I’ll just be here, recording my albums to the computer, listening to Tommy Roe and Paul Revere & the Raiders.
When I was young he Johnny Cougar. Way back in '78.
I do. I owknay igPay atinLay! I turn 35 in June.
Granted, I learned it from an ex-boyfriend’s Dad, but still…
[QUOTE=Carm6773]
I turn 35 in June.
You’re 35?
Get outta this thread right now you young upstart…and don’t even think about walking across my lawn on your way out.
Fuckin’ kids these days, no respect