One
of the relatively few advantages of growing older is that the higher
you climb on the hill of time, the more you can see when you look
back over the things you have witnessed.
I
was born fourteen and a half years after the Treaty of Versailles
which officially ended World War I; eight months and eleven days
after Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s first swearing in as President,
and in the darkest days of the Great Depression. I had just turned
eight when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and remember listening
to President Roosevelt’s declaration of war. I was eleven and a
half years old when he died. (Because I was too young to yet realize
the importance of history, I remember being extremely unhappy that,
for three days following his death, all regular radio programming was
cancelled, the radio playing nothing but music, forcing me to miss
out on my favorite radio kids’ shows.)
I
was raised in a world of iceboxes and Dixie-cup ice cream, of three
cent postage stamps and twice-a-day mail delivery; of black and white
movies with newsreels and travelogs and cartoons and 10 cent bags of
popcorn. Railroad trains were pulled by steam engines, and there were
no interstates or four-lane highways. Cars had running boards.
Laundry was washed either by hand or by machines with wringers. Wet
clothing was hung outdoors because driers hadn’t been invented yet.
To call someone, you picked up the phone and, if someone else was not
already talking on the line you shared with one or two other
families, asked the operator to connect you to the number you wanted
(“Forest 984”; “Central 255”.) The rotary dial came
considerably later.
During
the war, gas and food were rationed, and required ration stamps. I
remember paper drives, Victory bonds and victory gardens, blackouts
and air raid drills (though I lived in the heart of the country). My
parents had a small grocery store, and on those very rare occasions
when they were able to get a box of Hershey bars, they were kept
under the counter and distributed like gold nuggets to only their
best customers. And WWII was followed by the never-declared Korean
War, the Cold War, and Vietnam.
Fully
2/3 of the population of the world alive at the time of my birth are
now dead.
I
was born into a world so far different from our current one as to all
but unimaginable to most of those alive today. It was a world with no
computers, no television, no cell phones or iPods, no drive-by
shootings or road rage or school shootings. A world where anyone
traveling from America to Europe did so by ocean liner because there
was no commercial trans-oceanic air service. Up until the mid-1960s,
when you did travel by airplane, it was a Sunday-best occasion, and
men always wore suits and ties. Diseases all but eradicated from
today’s world—diphtheria, smallpox, polio—regularly claimed
tens of thousands of lives. Hospital patients were anesthetized with
ether dripped onto a cloth cone held over the patient’s nose and
mouth. Even penicillin, though discovered in 1928, was not put to use
until WWII. A diagnosis of cancer was a death sentence.
I
served in the U.S. military at a time when, as a Naval Aviation Cadet
stationed in Pensacola, Florida, a black serviceman could be asked to
move to the back of the bus to let whites sit down. And now we have a
black president.
I
witnessed, via television, the assassinations of President Kennedy,
his brother Bobby, and Martin Luther King; man’s first landing on
the moon, school desegregation, the civil rights movement.
Governments and nations rose and fell, as they have throughout time.
Each
of us has our own hill of time, and the future is a thick blanket of
clouds obscuring the top so we cannot see just how much more hill
lies ahead of us. I hope my hill is a very high one, indeed. As may
yours be.
Dorien's
blogs are posted by 10 a.m. Central time every Monday, Wednesday, and
Friday. Please take a moment to visit his website
(http://www.doriengrey.com)
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Circuits: a Life in Blogs (http://bit.ly/m8CSO1).
2 comments:
Okay, D? You captivated me in this one from the first word to the last. Not that your other posts don't, but you really reached up and grabbed me here. You've written something I can't and won't be able to for...um...another...70 or 80 years once I finally turn 30.
I love these kinds of posts and I very much love how you've crafted it together. =) I can't get enough of these, sir.
Very nice of you to say, Kage. I do feel an obligation to remind people--especially those who are not fully aware of it--of how quickly the world changes
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