Generation X is having a moment. I base this assertion on two items of media I consumed over the weekend.

The first was an episode of Slate's The Gist, which is an excellent new podcast by Gen X-er Mike Pesca. Specifically, it was Pesca's spiel at the end of the episode about Schoolhouse Rock, those classic cartoon shorts from the 1970s that taught us about grammar, math and legislative process. They are the subject of a special this Sunday on ABC. If I had cable, I'd watch it.

The second was the pilot of a new TV series on Amazon called Red Oaks. It's set in a New Jersey country club in the summer of 1985, which is the summer between high school and college for the main characters. It was also that summer for me.

Gen X-ers have to grab our moments because we don't get many of them. And we treasure them because it feels like that's all we get. It's the inevitable consequence of being caught in the sociocultural demographic vise between the Baby Boomers and their progeny, the Millennials. So we got to spend our youth resenting the Boomers and our maturity watching Millenials take center stage. Based on everything I've read and the word of many people I trust, I'd probably like Girls, the Lena Dunham show on HBO. But I still haven't been able to bring myself to watch it.

(Important note: While I am going to continue bitching throughout this post about both generations, I am aware that these are gross generalizations -- and that some of my favorite people on earth and good friends are in each of them. So please don't take it personally.)

Both of these media experiences -- especially coming on the same day! -- were sweet because we Gen X-ers, even as we head toward our 50s, don't get much of a chance for nostalgia. The Boomers own that territory, from the Wonder Years to classic rock (does anyone really need the Eagles or Led Zeppelin on the airwaves any more?????). The Millennials are already going there, rhapsodizing about shows that were apparently on Nickelodeon while we Gen X-ers were working crappy jobs and sporting unflattering hairstyles.

So I'm going to revel in our little moment here, while we've got it. I hope Amazon picks up Red Oaks. I may watch some YouTubes of Schoolhouse Rock or go see if the library still has that DVD. And I would like to point out that while the generations before and after us have had their cultural impacts -- oh, have they had their cultural impacts -- that a few of us have managed to stand out. Specifically, I'd like to appreciate:

Jon Stewart. If I had to choose one person as the voice of our generation, it would be him. Because he is funny as hell, and smart as hell. If there is any legacy bestowed on us by the Boomers that we have enthusiastically furthered, it is the erosion of institutional authority. Stewart embodies our generation's tightrope walk between idealism and cynicism and he embodies it by constantly pointing out that the emperor has no clothes -- whether that emperor is Ronald Reagan or Jerry Garcia.
Wes Anderson. Speaking of nostalgia -- almost every one of his movies is designed to hit that late '60s, early '70s analog sweet spot in our memory banks. And if his films have one overarching themes, it is fathers -- and father relationships from the generation before parents thought they were supposed to be their kids' friends.
Michael Chabon and Junot Diaz. I remember, in college in the '80s, when Bret Easton Ellis and Jay McInerney were all the rage, I came across a copy of "The Mysteries of Pittsburgh" and immediately knew this guy was the real deal. I didn't hear about Diaz till later because he's even closer to my age but wow, what a talent. One thing I really appreciate about both of them is their appreciation for weirdness in the genre/scifi/comics/whatever sense.

I know this Moment isn't going to last long. And just thinking about it long enough to write this blog post has me wondering: Maybe there's an advantage to our squeezed-in-the-middle demographic position. There's the pleasure of feeling aggrieved, which is always satisfying, but more importantly there's the pleasure of being part of a more select club. I always attributed my underdog sympathies to growing up as a Red Sox fan ... but now I wonder if it's more of a generational tendency. Our time was going to come, and then it was already gone. But we're still here.