Now that we’ve marked the last significant 50th anniversary of this summer — Woodstock, relived yet again — can we please kill the ’60s once and for all?

This summer has been an excruciating exercise in forced nostalgia, a blanketing of headlines and newsreels from sooty yesteryear — as if we were otherwise living in a slow news cycle, not much of interest happening at the moment, not at all.

Most disturbingly, the past three months prove the Baby Boomers, that 76 million-strong cohort born between 1946 and 1964, have no intention of loosening their stranglehold on the culture while hammering home one narrative: They were, and are, America’s last great generation.

And so the rest of us, those non-essentials (Gen Xers) and nuisances (millennials) who had the misfortune to be born later, have had to endure, yet again, multiple retellings of the Stonewall Riots, the Apollo 11 moon landing, and the glory of a filthy weekend called Woodstock, along with the tragedies of that year: the aftermath of the Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy assassinations, the Manson Family murders — but not, curiously, the 50th anniversary of Chappaquiddick, which I addressed in a column earlier this summer.

Chappaquiddick, and the Boomers’ subsequent embrace of Ted Kennedy, is undoubtedly a black stain on their legacy, one they have spent decades successfully minimizing. The Boomers are, after all, still writing their own history, and we know what’s said about history’s authors: They are the victors.

It’s time for a pushback, if not a counternarrative. There are, by most official counts, at least 82.1 million people born between 1965 and 1980, otherwise known as Gen Xers, in America. In 2015, the US Census Bureau found that there were 83.1 million millennials, those born between 1982 to 2000, among us.

Combined, we are a cohort that dwarfs the Boomers.

Yet recently — come to think of it, at the outset of this summer — an editor asked if I thought our generation, Generation X, would be remembered for anything. Our window, he argued, was very small: from the birth of grunge in the early 1990s to the tech bubble bursting in 2000 to the shock of Sept. 11.

And it’s true. Many demographers and social scientists refer to Gen X as the middle child of generations, sandwiched between Boomers and millennials and easily overlooked.

Yet we are special.

Gen X is the last generation to grow up without the internet or smartphones. We are the last connective tissue between a pre- and post-tech-driven society and economy. We were the first to delay marriage and childbearing, and the first to be simultaneously caring for young children and aging parents.

According to a 2016 article in Forbes, Gen Xers are the among America’s most highly educated — 35 percent have graduated college, compared with 19 percent of millennials. We compose the majority of startups: 55 percent are Gen Xers. Whether you think they’re forces for evil or good, consider these Gen X game changers: Jeff Bezos, Elon Musk, Jack Dorsey and Sara Blakely, who made billions inventing Spanx.

According to global human resources firm DDI World, as of 2018, Gen Xers maintained 51 percent of leadership positions and are expected to expand that reach.

And with boots on the ground and an unprecedented harnessing of technology, it was Gen Xers who helped elect our first black president.

This is to say nothing of millennials, who have come of age under the worst recession since the Great Depression.

Yet the Boomers would have us celebrate them unendingly.

Please, let’s stop. It’s boring, it’s predictable, and we all know how their stories end. As one of their lodestars has been so often quoted saying: It’s time to pass the torch to a new generation.