Blue Monreal

Gabby Douglas, the Honda Odyssey and fidget spinners. These are just a few of the people and things that shaped my childhood and upbringing. In the same way I can look back at these icons, someone born in years past certainly longs for Faith Ringgold, Beyblades and a PT Cruiser. This got me thinking: If we’ve had an explosion of products and content in the past hundred years, how will we decide what seminal people, places and things to share with future generations?

We’ve all been there: an old person mentions a song, an actor or an event that occurred before our existence, and they are stunned to find out we have no idea about it. I usually roll my eyes and think to myself, “I wasn’t there! Why should I care?” While it’s understandable that I’m not well-versed in ’60s pop culture, it’s equally understandable how I’d be horrified at future generations if they weren’t aware of the significance of the Harlem Shake. The video app Vine and “21” are “things” that I can’t imagine not knowing. Obviously, the early 20-year-olds of the late 21st century won’t know everything, so that begs the question: What is worth sharing?

As someone who talks to their imaginary children all the time, I’ve often believed that no matter their prerogative, I’ll have my children watch the Marvel Cinematic Universe canon from start to “Endgame” (2019). Doesn’t matter if they hate it, they need to know. In that same vein, I’m sure many of us look forward to sharing our favorite albums, pieces of clothing and sayings to the new crop. That said, we can’t take everything. So how do we choose? Is it even our choice? Are songs like “All I Want for Christmas” by Mariah Carey shielded from the erosion of time? Or will they face the same fate as The Try Guys?

In that same vein, who will be the ones reminding us? I remember being annoyed when I saw “Columbus Day” on my Google calendar, wondering why the technology giant doesn’t get with the program and display “Indigenous Peoples’ Day,” but that just goes to show how people in high places have the power to decide what gets remembered and repeated. Although we’re hesitant to honor Indigenous Peoples’ Day, don’t you think we’ve swept some things under the rug? I, for one, will never get over how quickly we moved on from the January 6 U.S. Capitol attack and Drake’s nudes. Despite my clear and public outcries, I wonder how to coax the masses to focus on what matters (such as Aubrey on that plane).

I wonder if we can do anything in the present to ensure a smooth transition of knowledge to the future. Or if the intentional “life-support” we give to certain events of remembrance, like the Fourth of July, actually highlights the fragility and fickle nature of our world.

Although this topic raises more questions than answers, I think it reminds us of our presence. We are the first generation of young people submerged with endless digital content. Each of us has found our own enclaves and communities, and each of us finds comfort in the familiar. Just like past generations, we should relish the moment because it’s only a matter of time until people ask: “What was a smartphone?” “What was the Royal Family?” and “Who was Future?” Although all of these questions are preposterous to us youngins, it’s only a matter of time until we too are the old people perplexed by the youth. At the end of the day, the best we can do is enjoy it. It feels like a party every day.

Neiman Mocombe is a member of the Class of 2026.