Lately I have been getting more of those emails extolling the “good old days” when people took personal responsibility, music was really music, everyone worked hard, kids were good, and the world was generally a better place.
My memory is a bit different.
When I was born, my mother had to get another ration card so I could have enough milk. The world was at war, and food was scarce.
By the time I was three and the war had ended, 16 million Americans had served in the military, more than 400,000 had been killed, and total casualties were over one million. Around the world, nearly 20 million had died.
It was only a few years later that my grammar school class was being instructed on how to “duck and cover” should we see the telltale flash of a nuclear explosion from our former allies, the Russians. The Cold War had begun in earnest.
When I was seven, North Korea invaded the south. Five million Americans were called to service, including many who had served in World War II. Three years and 140,000 casualties later, President Eisenhower threatened to use a nuclear bomb and a truce was called. True peace still eludes us.
Fear of enemies was so high during that time that a right wing movement led by Senator Joe McCarthy was able to destroy hundreds of careers — and lives — in the name of “anti-Communism.”
My grammar school had no cafeteria, no prepared lunches, no sports, no gym and a standard class size of 35 kids. The only organized sport was Little League. My “elite” high school (Boston Latin) had no biological sciences, few electives and class sizes over 30. Its primary pedagogical tools were intimidation and humiliation.
When I entered college, the nation was coming out of a recession and the percentage of Americans below the poverty level was over 22%, almost double what it is today. While I was in college, we saw the Cuban Missile crisis, the construction of the Berlin wall and the assassination of President Kennedy. Each one of these events sent the fear of war (and of being drafted) racing through the campus.
By the time I got out of college, I had to find a way to discharge my required military service, so I joined the Army Reserves. I got off active duty in June, 1965, just before Lyndon Johnson made the worst mistake of his career and sent 200,000 American soldiers to Viet Nam. 8.7 Million Americans served in the military during that endless war, and 211,000 of them were killed or wounded.
This year, I will become eligible for Medicare, which did not exist in the “good old days.” My Italian tailor grandfather spent his entire savings on my diabetic grandmother. He could not retire. He died with a needle in his hand at 72.
I had an Italian uncle whose friends used to talk about “the good old days.” He said, “You know what I tell them? I tell them that the good old days weren’t that good. We had a lousy economy, a war, no regulation. There were no antibiotics…. I say ‘You know what was good about the good old days? You were young!’ ”
Mass Liberal Voice 