The Rise of the New American Dream

A few days before the fifth anniversary of America's only major terrorist attack, amid the burgeoning onslaught of news dedicated to the subject, I sat and listened to about 50 college students ponder the impact Sept. 11, 2001 played upon their lives.

Freshmen and sophomores, hardly into their teens at the time of the tragedy, admitted to having not much of a frame of reference.

Only those in their 20s could draw on memories of what life in the United States was like, prior to the day that snatched our sense of security on American soil.

They spoke of what they were doing when it happened, and how it affected their family and friends. How they saw their mothers weep, and how their high school teachers broke down as they told their classes what was happening in New York.

And so it seemed appropriate, on this wet and dreary afternoon in a lecture hall at Hofstra University, that the darkness within the souls of these young adults came to be shared and discussed in a forum to someday be aired on C-SPAN.

Leading the discussion was MTV's Gideon Yago. The students came to view Yago as a kindred spirit of sorts. Clearly, he was a contemporary, and as he moderated, he passed no judgment over their opinions. Once the rhythm of Yago's style kicked in, the college students became more eager to offer details and less uncomfortable as they spoke. Perhaps they'd never had this opportunity before. It was obvious they had been accustomed to taking their seats at the kiddie table ... and to not being heard.

These were the thoughts and feelings of the echo-boom generation. It's a generation born into exceedingly high expectations, for they are the children of baby boomers.

The baby boomers, as you know, worked hard to set a new standard on the old American Dream. After all, it was their parents' generation that aspired to the greatest symbol of American achievement: owning a home.

The boomers, then, figured out if one home is good, two must be better.

So now I sit in Monroe Hall, listening to a generation that's never known a day without videogames, talk about their realities, their hopes and their dreams.

There, in the crossroad of their conversation, a new American Dream began to take shape.

For this generation of Americans, their dream is a future without fear.

It's a revelation by a generation living in a parallel universe to that of their parents. The boomers' ambition and earning power enabled them to give their kids the best of everything.

But was all the material success enough to give them what they now need most?

The conversation shifts to the terror alert that continuously crawls along their television screens, courtesy of FOX News and other 24-hour cable channels.

In a manner once reserved for breaking news, the now-continuous alert is book ended by news of the day. Not necessarily breaking, nor important news, but it's presented in a way that caused older generations to stop what they were doing and pay attention.

To these students, it's viewed as a fear factor with diminishing returns. They choose to ignore it, and blame the media for trying to scare them even more than they already are, by sticking the terror alert in their faces.

What they can't ignore is the militia they see in Penn Station, or their friends going off to fight in a war. They're not quite sure why the war started, but they trust education will help them better understand the cultural differences at play.

What they don't trust is the government and the media, and not necessarily in that order. They don't see anyone offering solutions or, on a broader scale, the hope they so desperately seek.

What they do see so clearly right now is that they are powerless. And they are saddled with a generation divided by those who are old enough to have experienced a breathe or two of pure freedom, and those who aren't. It's the latter that views the new world order as the way things have always been, and the former seems to grasp that concept as one of the greatest dangers facing its generation.