The World War Two Generation
Received an e-mail yesterday from a long-time friend comparing the nation’s attitude toward the so-called war on terrorism and that held during World War Two.
I replied as follows:
Thanks for reminding me. Yes World War II occurred in a far different world from today. The technology was different certainly. But much more important, people were different. The Depression years of the 1930s made, I believe, all of us much more aware of each other and of our government’s efforts to simply provide a roof over our head and food to eat. No one born after 1943 or so has experienced the national hardship and gut-worrying uncertainties that shaped the national conscious of those who were adults during WWII.
This belief of mine is not merely and intellectual expression. During the first few years of my life I was called “Fred” by the family since Frederick is, after my father, my first name. I came to be called “Bob” in 1933 when I was five years old and my father was the only family member who had not lost his job. My parents owned a house in Bayside. Long Island. In 1933, the following relatives moved in with us: my mother’s parents, my mother’s brother, and my father’s father, Now myself, my father, and my father’s father are all named Frederick. To reduce confusion, it was agreed that, in the family, my Father would be called “Fred;” my Father’s father would be called “Fritz;” and I would be called “Bob” after Robert, my middle name.
My point is, my very name reminds me of those terrible days when we were overflowing our house in Bayside and my father’s modest teacher-salary was supporting six adults and two young children. Although they all did their best to shield me, I sensed the despair that gnawed on the edges of our closely knit family. I grew up with parents who faced reality and accepted without the slightest hesitation, and with humor, the duties that fate imposed. My parents were living examples of how adults should behave. Is it any wonder that my view of the world, and that of my parents’ generation, is different than that of most younger people who, thank God, never had to face alone raw, dream-stealing, hard-scrambling adversity?
I replied as follows:
Thanks for reminding me. Yes World War II occurred in a far different world from today. The technology was different certainly. But much more important, people were different. The Depression years of the 1930s made, I believe, all of us much more aware of each other and of our government’s efforts to simply provide a roof over our head and food to eat. No one born after 1943 or so has experienced the national hardship and gut-worrying uncertainties that shaped the national conscious of those who were adults during WWII.
This belief of mine is not merely and intellectual expression. During the first few years of my life I was called “Fred” by the family since Frederick is, after my father, my first name. I came to be called “Bob” in 1933 when I was five years old and my father was the only family member who had not lost his job. My parents owned a house in Bayside. Long Island. In 1933, the following relatives moved in with us: my mother’s parents, my mother’s brother, and my father’s father, Now myself, my father, and my father’s father are all named Frederick. To reduce confusion, it was agreed that, in the family, my Father would be called “Fred;” my Father’s father would be called “Fritz;” and I would be called “Bob” after Robert, my middle name.
My point is, my very name reminds me of those terrible days when we were overflowing our house in Bayside and my father’s modest teacher-salary was supporting six adults and two young children. Although they all did their best to shield me, I sensed the despair that gnawed on the edges of our closely knit family. I grew up with parents who faced reality and accepted without the slightest hesitation, and with humor, the duties that fate imposed. My parents were living examples of how adults should behave. Is it any wonder that my view of the world, and that of my parents’ generation, is different than that of most younger people who, thank God, never had to face alone raw, dream-stealing, hard-scrambling adversity?
posted by Bob Baker at 2:33 AM
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