I’ve become enamored with saunas thanks to Dr. Rhonda Patrick and her message of how consistent use can produce significant health benefits, including a significant reduction in the rates of cancer. In fact, my family is set to begin remodeling our house in stages, and I hope to have some of the additional square footage earmarked for a home sauna. But, until then, I travel to my local gym’s hotbox almost every day. It’s a smaller industrial unit, but it’s well-lit and clean. Minus the occasional visitor, I have plenty of space to read while increasing my heat shock proteins.
This morning, I was joined by two other heat seekers. The first, an older gentleman, probably in his early seventies, was the first to arrive. He stood directly in front of the sign displaying the rules of the sauna, removed the towel from around his waist, and climbed to the second tier of benches. He then used his towel for a pillow. As he reclined, he exposed his seventy year old ass-crack to every member in the locker room who would walk past the glass door or enter the sauna.
Moments later, a younger gentleman, in his mid to late twenties entered the sauna wearing his complete basketball uniform—high-tops and all. He walked over to the lava rocks, splashed an entire cup of water over them, passing the sign twice before sitting down. To his credit, he did manage to stay over twenty minutes, even though he remained fully dressed the entire time.
The sign only has six rules— number three is all sauna goers must wear a towel at all times, number five is do not pour water on the lava rocks.
I tried to focus on my novel, but the heat made my mind wander to my upcoming plans for the day. After the gym, I was headed to vote in the California primary for the final day of this cycle’s primary season. (Is there anyone in America who isn’t already sick of this Presidential election cycle?) Then, because of my fellow sauna goers, my mind shifted to how demographics determine our societal structure and our political landscape. If you want to significantly shift societal norms, like the Boomers did in the 60’s, size matters.
I belong to Generation X, a title so cool that we should have been given X-Men superpowers instead of a latchkey. We have a population range between 70 and 83 million depending on when the generation is counted.
The Baby Boomers (born between 1946 and 1964) currently total just above 75 million people.
Millennials (born between 1980 and 2000) now number over 83 million people, dwarfing even the Boomers.
Gen X’s size, compared to those around us, means we’re destined for a life of political partnership. While we have views that are uniquely ours, we aren’t numerous enough to impose our collective will without partnering with large segments of our fellow citizens— which is good. Perhaps my generation can lead the nation’s political discussion back to a time when we worked with our neighbors instead of throwing partisan mud at them.
As for me, after voting, I negotiated my family’s discussion until the sauna reached the top of our remodeling to do list.