Why aren't we more excited about the '20s? As in the 2020s?
Is it because we're still too busy lamenting the end of the Teens? (Wait, did we actually call the years from 2010 to 2019 the Teens?)
We like to think in terms of decades — the Roaring '20s, the Depression-era '30s, the war-ridden '40s. Maybe it helps us remember and make sense of the past. But it takes a while to establish the character of a decade, and it's often a sloppy thing, spilling over the lip of one 10-year period and sloshing into the first few years of another.
What defines a decade — at least in our collective memory — is events, rather than just the 0's and 9's. Some argue, for example, that the so-called swinging '60s started with the death of President John F. Kennedy in 1963 and ended with the moon landing in 1969.
When you start to examine how we think about decades past, you realize that our understanding is, well, a bit simplistic.
Here's a quick overview of how we've come to view the past 100 years or so, decade by decade:
1890s: In the Gilded Age, robber barons in top hats looked at watches on gold chains while they strode from their carriages to their mansions, batting aside the urchins who had gathered with caps in hand in hopes of a few pennies. The economy seemed to consist of railroads, oil and periodic panics.
1900s: Huh. Aside from Teddy Roosevelt in the White House and the Wright brothers taking flight, this decade doesn't seem to have stuck in the popular imagination.