Ten years ago, on December 31, 1999, I was spending a quiet evening with my future wife at her apartment.At one point, stretching out on the carpeted floor, I started writing on the lined pages of a blank journal, trying to capture my sense of the moment.Here is some of what I wrote:
Across the world, people are celebrating the dawn of a new millennium.Of course, it’s not really a new millennium but the beginning of the last year of the old one, but popular fascination with the change from 1999 to 2000 seems to have pretty much redefined the term.Even the newspapers are calling this the arrival of the next millennium (and century and decade), and there is round-the-clock TV coverage of millennium celebrations.I watched some of the TV coverage while I was working out at the gym today, and it was both awesome and tacky—like a huge sporting event, with color commentators giving statistics about the number of fireworks being used in London, and how nice it is that England, having “gone through so much” in the past century, can party on into the new one.
Along with the big parties and endless attempts to sum up the period we are about to leave behind (usually focusing on the century rather than the millennium, because even the most ambitious commentators probably don’t believe they are in a position to choose, say, the ‘Athlete of the Millennium’), much public attention has focused on the potential for disaster.This anticipation has focused on three categories of possible calamity: First, the infamous Y2K computer problem, which people thought might shut down the power grid, erase hard drives, eliminate financial records and cause planes to fall out of the sky; second, terrorism aimed at causing bedlam in the midst of chaos; and third (and least), apocalyptic upheavals: literally, the end of the world.These possibilities did not create widespread panic, especially because in recent weeks every indication has been that the Y2K problem would not cause the large-scale disruptions that had been feared.But many people have taken prudent precautions, like staying away from the big gatherings tonight, and stockpiling food and water.I bought enough bottled water and canned food to last for a week or so, and brought my flashlight here . . .
I imagine that in the distant future, the 1990s will be remembered for two things: First, the dramatic growth of the Internet and the public use of all things digital; second, the great economic boom, which made billionaires of high-tech entrepreneurs (with more ambiguous results for the rest of us, as the gap between rich and poor—and between the very rich and everybody else—grew as well).Culturally, it’s been a weird time, as the Internet and expansion of various media have seemed to bring everything closer to everybody, and yet all public things—government, big institutions, celebrities, etc.—have seemed to become harder to reach, more abstract, more like fiction.The O.J. Simpson trial and the Clinton impeachment were major sources of entertainment, no more real-seeming than the best TV dramas and movies.The public myth is that anybody could become the next Bill Gates or Jeff Bezos by starting a hot new ‘dot com’ company, and at some level, most people who have not done so, or at least made a killing in the stock market, probably feel left behind or even cheated.But the world of Gates and Bezos, like the world of Simpson and Clinton, seems to be separated from our own by a vast gulf.There they all are, on TV; here we are, with no practical way of connecting with them or that reality.
For me, the 1990s have been filled with ambiguity.Back in the 1980s (as I remember them, sitting here tonight) I was on a fairly clear path, and I made dramatic progress.In the 1990s the picture became much more cloudy.I had to choose, rather than merely follow, my path, and choosing meant making tradeoffs, and coming to terms with the complexity and arbitrariness in the world.I didn’t have the comfortable certainty that doing well would mean winning an opportunity to jump through the next golden hoop on the way to everlasting glory, and I didn’t have the constant ego-reinforcing feedback of good grades.It’s been a hard time, punctuated (fortunately) by adventures, friendships, love, and the still-vibrant possibility that my hard choices will prove to have been good ones, and that one day I’ll look back on the 1990s as the difficult-but-necessary, personal-growth-inspiring prelude to the real glory days.
I’ll write more soon.Here I am in 1999, the much-anticipated year 2000 and the rest of my life an hour away.I’m a lucky man, because even in the ambiguous times, I’ve had so many amazing, formative experiences.I’ve lived my fair share of life in my 32+ years, and I’m going to do my very best to make sure that I always will.Happy New Year.
