Don’t You Miss Hope

You’re just a normal, anxious millennial. Maybe you’re jaded or cynical.
— "Don't You Miss Hope", verse two

A Normal, Anxious Millennial

Don’t You Miss Hope” goes out to those of us who were born in the 80s, made most of our childhood memories in the 90s, graduated high school soon after 9/11, entered the professional world during the Great Recession, and navigated the Covid years with little ones at our ankles. We are (elder/geriatric) millennials.

I remember when our family got a TV that had a remote. Before that, we used the dial to change the channel, and we only had a handful of options. (Side note: do you remember how the TV screens were basically furry because of how the tube technology worked?) The first computer I learned to operate had a black screen with a blinking green cursor (and I remember there was a turtle involved somehow?). This War Games-esque computer was probably in the elementary school computer lab when I was in Kindergarten. By the time I was wrapping up my elementary school years, we were following clues to locate Carmen Sandiego, and dying of dysentery on the Oregon Trail — and we couldn’t believe how realistic those computer graphics were!

The first time I ever went on a website was in that computer lab, probably in the mid-90s. About a year or two after that, I had my own AOL screen name and email address. (Remember how AOL would mail out those CD-ROMS??) From then on, my life had the quintessential mid-90s soundtrack: that iconic dial-up modem noise sequence, followed by a cheerful robotic voice saying, “you’ve got mail!” — and of course I had Hanson, the Spice Girls, and Fiona Apple on repeat in my precious CD player (ahem, “Tidal” is a masterpiece record, and I’m proud to say that I could recognize that back in 6th grade).

The internet was new back then. I don’t remember people being afraid of it. They should have been, though, because I was going into chat rooms as a junior high student, talking to God-knows-who, and they were asking me to meet IRL. (I didn’t, thank the Lord!)

 
 

Information Age, Internet Age

I am one year older than Baby Jessica.

Look her up if you don’t get the reference. But from my understanding, the story of Baby Jessica being stuck in a well was one of the first human interest stories to take a ride on the 24-hour cable news train. If I’m wrong, you’ll have to forgive me, because like I said, I was a baby then.

You’re knee deep in a conundrum, seeking solutions, all the world’s problems
— "Don't You Miss Hope", verse one

I assume there would have been many babies in desperate situations before Baby Jessica, but it was her story that America knew in great detail, and in real time. In 1994, I was really into my new Gymnastics Barbie doll, and my biggest concern was whether or not my mom would buy more Gushers at the grocery store — but also, I watched live as the police chased that infamous white Bronco down the freeway.

It is a very strange thing to have been born at the beginning of, what feels like, a new era in human history. My fellow geriatric millennials and I grew up alongside the internet, as though it was our peer: we were children when it spread to the general public, and in our formative years, it was shaping the developed world into something… different. It wasn’t until after our brains were fully mature that I saw scholars taking a more critical look at the impact the internet, and especially social media, has had on our psychology and overall well-being.

 
 

A Simpler Time

The 90s were awesome. It was a simpler time.

It was probably a simpler time for me mainly because I was a child in the 90s. And I had a great childhood. I grew up in a safe neighborhood, just a short walk away from a handful of different friends’ houses. My summers were spent at the pool, or going on bike rides with friends — no cell phone, no GPS tracking — just make sure to be home by dinner.

But now, in the 2020s, I’m raising my own children. The 2020s are much more complicated. For one, I’m an adult, so I have to think about all kinds of responsibilities. But also, I feel like the internet has made being a parent harder because it’s given us access to an amount of information that is greater than ever before. Instead of one story of one baby stuck in one well, now we scroll through our phones and can see 10 second clips of various news stories about babies in every corner of the world, stuck in all sorts of proverbial wells. There is no shortage of bad news in the world, and the internet has made it that much easier to share it.

Plus, the internet is always telling me that I’m doing life wrong. I’m eating the wrong things, my skincare routine is all wrong, my parenting is too strict, my parenting is too relaxed, I’m not promoting my music correctly, and I am ruining everything, apparently.

Have you considered there’s more than just doom and gloom? I hope you’re ready to hear that soon.
— "Don't You Miss Hope", verse one

If you’re Gen-X and older reading this, then go ahead and look down on me because of my youth. Maybe you were watching the news in the 90s, and you were fully aware of all that was going on in the world. Maybe the internet hasn’t brought the world’s darkness into our individual psyches on a deeper level than ever before. But I tell you what, it is jarring for this geriatric millennial, who grew up with a lot of freedom as a child, to now have so much anxiety about the world as I’m raising my own children. As kids in the 90s, we learned about stranger danger and took the dare to not use drugs, but my kids do active shooter drills at school. I worry about what the climate will look like in 30 years, and whether or not WWIII will break out in their lifetime. (Okay, you had the Cold War, so you get the worry about WWIII.)

 
 

Fighting Yourself and a Phantom

Am I more anxious because the world is more threatening now, or am I more anxious because I am just more aware of such threats? Is my anxiety just from becoming an adult, or has the internet made being an adult more terrifying?

Either way, I’m anxious, so I suppose it doesn’t really matter.

That’s what this song is about: the anxiety of adulthood, trying to keep up with bills, afraid of another pandemic breaking out, afraid of American democracy crumbling. You know, normal stuff. Come to think of it, maybe it doesn’t matter what age you are in the 2020s — feels like they’re scary no matter what.

 
 
Do you ever want to feel that goodness is alive and well?
— "Don't You Miss Hope", chorus

Don’t You Miss It?

I do miss hope, and I think that it’s possible to connect with hope, even in the 2020s. I think it can be cultivated, like gratitude can be cultivated by intentionally being thankful. Perhaps we can intentionally look for hope and hold onto it when we see it. We can cultivate hope by resisting cynicism and nihilism. Resisting, not ignoring; not by pretending like the everything’s fine when it’s not, but by not letting the bad things be the only things we’re factoring into the story we’re telling ourselves about the world around us.

I always miss the 90s, but in the moments when I feel like the sky is falling, what I really miss is hope.

 

Listen Now

 

Miscellany

Miscellaneous things about the “Don’t You Miss Hope”:

  • I recorded all of the vocals for this song with my cat, Winston, sitting in my lap. He helped me hit the low notes.

  • I recorded the banjo parts on my second-hand/half-broken banjo at my house, thinking that I would re-record them on the Vanderpool’s nice banjo at the studio, but I never got around to it. So you’re hearing my crappy banjo.

  • This is one of my favorite songs from the album. It will be one of the last songs on the album to hit 1,000 streams. I always feel like my favorite tracks are never the ones that get the most traction.

  • I am so proud of the moment around 00:45 seconds, when the bass and kick come in.

  • The lyric video for “Don’t You Miss Hope”, as well as this blog post, both took way longer than I wanted them to. Maybe this song is more depressing for me.

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End of the World