The definition of “cool” is difficult to understand and many have tried to explain it. I did a little research on the internet to see if anyone had come up with a suitable definition, but there were no satisfactory ones. Let’s just say “cool” is defined by a select group of individuals in each generation and remains with that group for the rest of their lives.
Here are some facts about being “cool” written by others….
- "Cool cannot be manufactured, only observed"
- "Cool can only be observed by those who are themselves cool"
- "The act of discovering what's cool is what causes cool to move on"
In each generation, “cool” seems to matter most to teenagers. They decide what “cool” is by defining everything their parents do as “uncool.” This attitude is fostered by the desire to rebel against parental authority in an environment where open rebellion invites punishment. So teenagers hide their defiance behind a wall of ironic detachment, distancing themselves from parental authority rather than directly confronting it. This attitude is aided by the music artists and others who what to distinguish themselves and gain fame or by others just hoping to use this new behavior to market products.
However it works, it brings a powerful change in each generation…..at least during the teenage years. Have you ever known a time in your life when you were “cool”? What defined it? Do you remember the first time some snotty nose teenager made you feel uncool? I think if you are a baby boomer, you have had that experience.
Which leads me to the question….What does it mean to be cool? I have plenty of time lately (one of the luxuries of retirement) and so I get to remember things. I tried to remember my teenage years to see if I ever had a cool moment. First, I had to remember what was “cool” back in the 1960’s when I struggled as a teenager.
I lived in a single-parent home with a hard-working mom trying to raise three kids alone. I never had any money unless I earned it myself. I was always working 2 or more jobs and looking for other ways to earn money. I must have worked every part-time job a teenager could get from delivering papers, mowing grass, sacking groceries, flipping burgers, babysitting, etc. I even had a job stocking the bread for the local bread truck. None paid more than $2 an hour and I usually spent it on clothes for school.
Then there were the non-paying jobs like cleaning the house, doing laundry, taking care of the car and, of course, watching my younger brother. My older sister got a pass because she was constantly on dates and going out. She would often hand-off her babysitting jobs to me. I appreciated the easy money.
So, wearing the latest clothing styles, driving a new car, having money to socialize or even date were “cool” things I did not have. Most of the teenagers in my small town were divided into the “rich”, the “poor” and the non-existent. The rich were usually defined as the “cool” ones for all the above reasons. I made friends with all three groups, so I guess I was a non-existent. Popularity in my school often was determined by the kind of car you drove, how big an athlete you were or how rich your family was. I was the youngest in my class graduating from high school at 17 and I did not completely fill out until college. So athletics seemed to pass me by before I had a chance to participate.
So the only cool thing I remember from those years was the music. I loved the music of the 60’s from rock and roll to the Beatles to Motown. I remember having a “beatles” haircut in my senior year which I considered cool. We had some really good local bands and the dances at the Legion Hut were some of my best memories. I loved to dance. My sister would teach me all the latest dances and my mom would always ask us to dance to the jukebox at the café where she worked.
Driving around the local hamburger joint (called the Kream Kastle) and listening to music on the local AM channel filled our teenage years. No FM radio or stereos or CDs or any other wonderful gadgets like we have today. But the music still sounded great.
Then I happened to remember the coolest night of my teenage life. It was the night of the Senior Prom. My best friend, Ron Wilson, invited me and my date to join him that night. His brother loaned him his brand new Pontiac GTO. The small town I lived in went all out for seniors and the prom. We got to dance until midnight when all the underclassmen were sent home. A wonderful buffet of food was brought in to recharge us. We then had the gymnasium until 2 AM when we were dismissed to go downtown to the only movie theater.
A special movie was flown in for our viewing (Barefoot in the Park with Jane Fonda and Robert Redford) which we would not get to see for several more weeks. After the movie, we burned rubber on Main Street
Something else happened that night that I had completely forgotten until Ron Wilson reminded me some 40+ years later. In hindsight, I would have to say this single circumstance defined what I believe was my coolest moment. Most teenagers live a self-centered life that has little or nothing to do with the rest of the world. At least, that was the way it was in the 1960’s. But a whole lot of change was just around the corner for me and my classmates.
The civil rights movement was gaining momentum. Our small town had two high schools, one black and one white. Our small town had two main streets, one black and one white. Segregation was still the norm in this southern town. There were some signs of change. The stores and the schools had become open to everyone. The year following my senior year, the government was going to shut down the black high school and force all students to attend one high school.
I grew up with memories of my grandmother’s café and how I was treated like family by the black cooks and dishwashers. I remember my mom would never allow us to tell racial jokes and the “N” word was grounds for a beating. I remember being on a junior high track team that was integrated and how we could not all go into the same restaurant after the track meet because of the black athletes. Our coach asked us all to eat burgers on the bus which we gladly did. Our senior class had one black student that I knew. His name was Harold Davis. I guess he was also one of the “non-existents.”
On the night of the Senior Prom, Ron Wilson, our dates and I were on the dance floor waiting for the band to begin a wonderful night of music. Harold Davis and his date walked on the dance floor and stood next to us. They were just as excited as we were. Then, as I turned around, all the other couples left the dance floor refusing to share it with Harold and his date. All except us. While our dates looked to see what we would do, I leaned over to Harold and said, “We are going to stay here and dance all night.” Harold and Ron smiled and the band began to play. The rest of the crowd could choose to live in the past and miss the best night of their life, we didn’t care. Eventually, everyone danced.
Ron (who was our class valedictorian) was so impressed with the stand I took that night and told me how courageous I was. At the time, I didn’t think of myself as doing anything unusual. I had been brought up to respect everyone regardless of race. I actually didn’t remember that event, but when I began to think about it in light of everything I have seen in the last 40 years. I decided at that moment, at that time, and at that place, I was forever “cool.”
It didn’t matter what I was wearing, what car I drove or how much money I had. I was cool because I was on the right side of something much bigger than prom night. I was right and that mattered more than all the popularity in the world. At that moment I found out that character was more important than popularity.
Thanks for reminding me Ron.
