When I was younger, one of my naïve notions was that there really wasn’t a generation gap. It was my belief that the unrest between my friends and their parents was turmoil they brought on by their own actions toward each other. Back in the early 1970s, when I became a teen, I sensed in my friends’ parents disapproval in the way we dressed, the music we listened to, the books we read, the people with whom we associated. In my family, things were different. Sure, as teenagers my siblings and I tested the limits set by our parents, but we ended up really seeing life through similar eyes. Even my older brother, who was the epitome of the rebellious teen, grew close to my parents when he became an adult. So it was my family’s experience that made...

You do not currently have access to this content.