|
More years ago than I care to
count, I remember thinking that there was something special about
being a member of my generation. My friends all agreed. And unlike
most times when we like to think that way about ourselves whether
true or not, this particular instance was reinforced by a teacher in
school. We were a generation who had little at the time to be proud
of, so whatever we could latch onto was considered worthy.
Yes, I am from the generation that saw movies seldom seen again
except on rainy Saturday afternoons like Goonies, Sixteen Candles,
and The Breakfast Club. We also suffered through the era of both
disco music and heavy metal that were led by men in lots of makeup
and on more drugs than anyone should have been able to survive on
(think Boy George and Kiss!). We were the kids who thought indoor
roller skating was the best thing to do on a Friday night. And we
were among the last that were able to create our own team sports by
choosing from our fellow neighbors that congregated in the streets
instead of having to be driven by our parents to the local sports
complex.
And gratefully I will say, my generation was the last of the dying
breed of students who were taught to learn instead of being taught
how to take a test. Our teachers had the time and the freedom to
pursue subjects that piqued their students' interests along with
those that were required for our particular grade. An hour spent
pursuing questions that we raised as a result of what we learned was
not considered indulgent and wouldn't have been brought censure to
our teachers.
This leads me back to the time when we learned we were part of a
‘special group.’ You see, for years my classmates and I sat through
history classes that rehashed one era after another. Sometimes we
focused on ancient history and the battles that were fought to
conquer one country or another. Other times the focus was on the
United States and the trials and tribulations that created, shaped
and continue to drive this country. I remember that every year that
we studied American history we never made it all the way through its
history. Some years we only got as far as our ancestors arrival to
the Pacific shores. Other years we made it up to World War II. And
one year our teacher skipped so quickly through some decades that he
knew we had already been through. For the first time we were
actually able to get to the final chapters of the largest of our
textbooks and learn about the Vietnam War.
This was when we discovered how fortunate a group we were - and how
it appeared that we might be lucky enough to remain son. As our
teacher pointed out to us, we were the first generation in quite a
while who were free from the trials and tribulations of war. The
world, more or less, was now a place where peace ruled over
conflict. The powers that ran the major countries were talking and
working together; or at least not seeking to destroy each other. And
even though many of us might have family members who fought in or
died in earlier wars, we might be the first people not to grow up
watching our own peers taken before their time.
I think that this was the one class that year that you could have
taken a survey after it was over and have every person there
remember the lesson that was offered to us. And, to a great extent,
I believe this particular forty minute session helped to shape the
mindset of many of us. Some took it as a sign that we could more
safely enlist to be sentinels for our country. And though none would
refuse if the need arose, there was less anxiety for those who
enlisted. Others took the path of trying to keep war as but another
chapter in the history books and worked to keep peace alive.
I can still recall one of my first trips into New York City at the
age of sixteen. A group of us from school decided it was our
responsibility to participate in a march against the proliferation
of nuclear arms amid tens of thousands of others. All of them
strangers, but none of them were out to do harm on this day
dedicated to peace. I don't think that we would have made that
journey had it not been for that class and the teacher that saw an
opportunity to inspire and motivate us.
Alas, we can no longer refer to ourselves as of that special
generation. Now, the best we can do is hope that very soon a
generation will be born that succeeds in the chance that we once
held but has slipped away. An opportunity to know their parent as a
part of their lives instead of as but a picture that hangs on a
wall. The chance to have a family reunion without having to leave an
empty chair at the table for those who have made the ultimate
sacrifice. To live without having to remember a loved one's birthday
by making a trip to the cemetery. We can only hope that one day
soon, children will not have to care for their elders who live with
the scars of war; be those scars physical, mental or emotional
impediments that have snuffed out dreams no longer achievable.
So to all of you women and men who have represented us so bravely
and valiantly, whether among us still or paving the way in the next
life, we remember and honor thank you this month. May you be served
with as much honor and dignity as you have served us. Here's to
every one of you. And to freedom. And to peace. |
