Esta discussão da “Geracão dos 80” à qual pertenco foi uma das conversas mais interessantes que tive nos últimos tempos.
Somos a geracão dos “dreamers”, daqueles que querem romper com as pisadas do passado mas sem usar a rebeldia e ao mesmo tempo afirmar a nossa identidade porque a temos bem vincada, um problema com que a geracão dos 90 se debate (a perda de identidade). Somos uma geracão fantástica que apanhou a transicão de quase tudo, do inocente ao manietado, do simples e natural ao complexo e fabricado, do genuíno ao publicitado. Somos a geracão que quer mudar, fazer e libertar o Mundo para melhor.
Deixo-vos alguns dados que estou certo que irão trazer um sentimento muito especial a todos os 80s cá do sítio :great::
[b]Child of the 80s[/b]
We are children of the 80s.
The 80s … it was a time when all we sang were Michael Jackson’s Beat It and Billy Jean and We Are The World was the best song in the universe. Lionel Richie’s Dancing on the Ceiling was the coolest MTV, and we didn’t understand all the fuss about Madonna’s iron tits. Cyndi Lauper and Boy George were the weirdest looking people around. Tiffany was every boy’s dream girl and Tommy Page was the guy every girl wanted to marry, until New Kids on the Block. London Boys’ dance routines were the best, and Johnny Hates Jazz’s I Don’t Want To Be A Hero was the song we swore by.
Freddie Mercury wasn’t a singer in Queen but Flash Gordon himself. Battlestar Galactica and V were how we visualised the future, and we watched them because they looked great though we didn’t understand the storylines. We watched the Love Boat cause all the adults were watching it although we didn’t find it funny. The shiny black talking car in Knight Rider was the car we wanted to own when we grew up and the helicopter in Airwolf couldn’t be destroyed except for a hole the size of a bullet. The Last Starfighter and Back to the Future were our favourite movies and the flimsy Tron plastic cups they gave away at Burger King were our most prized possession. We thought that Ultraman was cool though we could see the zippers on the back of the monsters. King Kong was the scariest movie we saw. Missing Sesame Street and The Electric Company was a mortal sin and we would shout at the top of our voices when the Count started counting his bats or when Big Bird started singing the alphabet. We blushed and became uncomfortable at any kiss on the TV screen. John Travolta was King on Saturday Night Fever and we knew every line in our played-to-death Grease cassette tapes. All we remember of Superman was that he could fly.
Boys’ favourite cartoons were Mask and GI Joe and if we did not own at least a dozen of the action figures, we were incomplete persons (and our parents were evil). Our imaginations were limitless: headquarters was a cave under the dining table and the kitchen sink was the enemy’s hideout. We memorized by heart all the verses in Visionaries and knew which robots belonged to the Autobots and which belonged to the Deceptacons, not to mention knowing the names of ALL the robots in Transformers. Smurfette was the ideal girl. We were amazed by the Rubic’s Cube and prided ourselves in being able to do one side. Anyone who could complete it was god. Well, we still are amazed.
Girls’ favourites were Strawberry Shortcake and Smurfs. The Carebear Countdown was their inspiration and they knew what sort of colours and stuff would fly out of their bellies when they stood in a row. Gargamel was like a particular uncle they knew. They aspired to become Barbie when they grew up, to live a big pink houses, own plastic furniture, and thought that Ken was the hunkiest guy around. Teddy bears promised that they would stay with us forever and never run away.
(For the death of us boys, we would never admit that we watch ‘girlie’ cartoons as well).
The 80s was a time when books were read and reread to death. We’ve all loved Enid Blyton’s books. We felt angry when Elizabeth (The Naughtiest Girl in School) was wrongly accused of something she didn’t do, and we would sit in the toilet lost in The Faraway Tree and the Wishing Chair, together with Moonface and the Saucepan Man, for hours on end until mum demanded we come out. We prided ourselves in having read all the books printed on the back of the bright blue hard covers and to our parents’ dismay, we had to own every single one of them. We all wished we were Charlie and wondered what the Oompa Loompas would feel like when we bashed them up. And we could not, for our lives, understand why the adults read books with no pictures in them.
Sleeping over at a friend’s place was the event of the month. A cup of milk and a plate of chocolate chip cookies were a complete meal and a proper diet. A box of crayons and plain sheets of white paper were enough to build vast empires. Hunting for spiders (and anything else that moved) in the bushes was adventure in its own right. Your friend’s friend was your friend, your friend’s enemy was your enemy, your enemy’s friend was your enemy, and your enemy’s enemy was your friend. We couldn’t understand why our older brothers were so crazy over fast cars and other girls, and why our older sisters wore perfume and make-up.
The 80s. A time when friendships were made in the morning, broken in the afternoon, and remade in the evening. A time when having the same interests and hobbies qualified you as a friend. A time when most of our toys didn’t have to have electricity running through them to keep us amused. If anything was wrong in the 80s, we cared not for we lived for that day, and that day only.
But most importantly for us 80s children, it was a magical era; where the world seemed to hang in a suspended state of transition … a time when the people we met and the friends we made are the ones who will stay with us till kingdom comes.
Afternote: Sometimes, I take out my old photographs to relive those memories and always, for just a flash of nostalgia, I wonder: was the world I remembered bathed in the yellow tinge of dirty sunlight? Then I will carefully replace those photographs, smiling and thankful. There is no other era that I would liked to have lived in.
[b]Children of the 80's[/b]
"We are the children of the Eighties. We are not the first “lost generation” nor today’s lost generation; in fact, we think we know just where we stand - or are discovering it as we speak.
We are the ones who played with Lego Building Blocks when they were just building blocks and gave Malibu Barbie crewcuts with safety scissors that never really cut. We collected Garbage Pail Kids and Cabbage Patch Kids and My Little Ponies and Hot Wheels and He-Man action figures and thought She-Ra looked just a little bit like I would when I was a woman. Big Wheels and bicycles with streamers were the way to go, and sidewalk chalk was all you needed to build a city. Imagination was the key. It made the Ewok Treehouse big enough for you to play in. With your pink portable tape player, Debbie Gibson sang back up to you and everyone wanted a skirt like the Material Girl and a glove like Michael Jackson’s. Today, we are the ones who sing along with Bruce Springsteen and the Bangles perfectly and have no idea why. We recite lines with the Ghostbusters and still look to the Goonies for a great adventure.
We flip through T.V. stations and stop at the A-Team and Punky Brewster and “What you talkin’ 'bout Willis?” We hold strong affections for The Muppets and The Gummy Bears and why did they take the Smurfs off the air? After school specials were only about cigarettes and step-families, the Pokka Dot Door was nothing like Barney, and aren’t the Power Rangers just Voltron reincarnated?
We are the ones who still read Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys, the Bobbsey Twins, Beverly Clearly and Judy Blume, Richard Scarry and the Electric Company. Friendship bracelets were ties you couldn’t break and friendship pins went on shoes - preferably hightopVelcro Reeboks - and pegged jeans were in, as were Units belts and layered socks and jean jackets and jams and charm bracelets and side pony tails and just tails. Rave was a girl’s best friend; braces with colored rubberbands made you cool. The backdoor was always open and Mom served only red Kool-Aid to the neighborhood kids - never drank New Coke.
Entertainment was cheap and lasted for hours. All you needed to be was a princess with high heels and an apron; Sit ‘n’ Spin always made you dizzy but never made you stop; Pogoballs were dangerous weapons and Chinese Jump Ropes never failed to trip someone. In your Underoos, you were Wonder Woman or Spiderman or R2D2 and in your treehouse you were king.
In the Eighties, nothing was wrong. Did you know the president was shot? Star Wars was not a movie. Did you ever play in a bomb shelter? Did you see the Challenger explode or feed the homeless man down the street? We forgot Vietnam and watched Tiananman’s Square on CNN and bought pieces of the Berlin wall at the store. AIDS was not the number one killer in the United States. We didn’t start the fire, Billy Joel. In the Eighties, we re-definied the American Dream, and those years re-defined us. We are the generation inbetween strife and facing strife and not burning our backs. The eighties may have made us idealistic, but it is not idealism that will push us to be passed on to our children - the first children of the twenty-first century. Never forget we are the children of the Eighties!!"