I have had this post sitting somewhere in my brain for months now, and this article in the New York Times about frugality reminded me about it again. So perhaps this is the day to set it down in ink (or rather, black and white dots on my terminal).

Despite my outward appearance, I am as old-fashioned as they come. Yes, that is a photo of my mom and me taken 20 years ago, at Ocean City, Maryland. It was the last vacation we took while my mom was alive. My mom passed away in 1991, and my dad passed away in 2005.

The family in which I grew up was different than most in that my parents were much older than most when they finally had children. They were around 40+ when they became parents; it is because they adopted three children domestically at a time when wait times to do so were already dragging on into years. They were, in fact, married 12 years before the first baby arrived, and didn't complete their family until after 18 years of marriage.

Now Self-Reliant Man and I kind of did the same thing, although this isn't exactly something you do by choice. We didn't meet each other until I was in my early 30s; then after marriage didn't come to the point of becoming adoptive parents until I (at least) was the same age that my mother was when she became a mom. Yes, the same age... to the month. Then I was the same age again as my mother, to the month, when Baby Girl came along. What are the chances?

All this to say that in my family, the generations are spread out much more than in most families. Which wouldn't seem to be such a big deal, except for the fact that it occurred during the 20th century, a time of swift cultural change in America. In so many ways, I have always felt my own family to be out of step with the mainstream, a situation that pained me greatly as a kid. Now as an adult, the same situation gives me a feeling of privilege as well as loss.

My husband's family, not so. Everyone in his side of the family had their babies in their mid-20s, and he is 4 years younger than me, too. So some of the differences between his family and mine highlight those things that make my own family different from most. My parents were approximately the same age as my husband's grandparents.

Despite only being in my 40s, I am a direct child of the World War 2 generation. I feel privileged because of this. I also feel that it has had a dramatic effect on my view of the world. My parents grew up with a popular culture that bears little resemblance to that of today. No kidding!

In addition, my parents knew hardships that are foreign to my experience, and that of just about anybody I know. My mom grew up in a broken household on the eve of the Great Depression. Her father divorced her mother when she was 4 years old, and her little sister was 2. Somehow he set up my grandmother to create the appearance of her having been unfaithful to him, when in fact it was the other way around. My mother's mother then went to work as a seamstress in a sweatshop where emotions ran high at times, and ladies were known to stab each other with scissors. My mother was poor before and during the Depression. She stood on relief lines for food staples. She had very few items of clothing to wear to school, yet she knew how to make herself look good and was voted "best dressed" by her classmates (see if that could happen today!) She always had a broad smile and was very popular. She was also a talented singer, and had things been different, she had enough talent to launch a lucrative singing career.

My dad grew up in a more economically comfortable setting than my mother. His life was more sheltered as a kid, but all that changed after he was drafted and served in General Patton's army in World War 2. He eventually became a sergeant and worked in criminal investigation in the European [military] theater. He ended up being drafted again during the Korean War, after being married to my mom for just a few years. In total, he served 11 years in the army before entering a business career after the wars.

Growing up, nobody in my peer group had parents the same age as mine. Their parents were usually more than 12 years younger than mine, and that made all the difference in the world. There was a huge difference, I found, between adults born in the early 1920s, and those born in the late 30s, 40s, or later. Our world had changed so much. America had changed so much. The culture of people had changed so much. And the fact that my brothers and I were growing up in the 1960s and 70s......... well, that presented certain challenges to my folks that they couldn't have foreseen in their wildest imagination. They were blindsided by the changes and challenges of our generation.

I have heard it said that the World War 2 generation was the "greatest generation" that ever lived. While that is most certainly hyperbole, I do truly appreciate what is meant by that label. There was something special about that generation that is unmatched by any later generation, in my eyes.

Now how can I say this tactfully, without seeming to look down on younger people (I'm including myself, of course)?

Why was that generation so special? What were the qualities that set those people apart in my mind? I know some of it was just the way my parents were, but there was a certain goodness in the people of that time, a certain lack of self-centered interest, a simplicity of life, a contentedness, a wisdom, a lack of obsession with wealth and possessions, that characterized such people. It was evident in my parents, and also in my husband's grandparents. I don't generally see the same ingredients in the older folks I know today (those in their 60s and 70s), whose lives have turned out so differently than their predecessors. Of course, there are exceptions.

Since I was a child, I have always sought out elderly people to befriend. It began with my being best friends with my great Aunt Anna, a woman who was eighty years my senior! But there was always a special ingredient, a certain warmth, and willingness to share smiles and kind words that exuded from elderly people that I talked to. I do remember this.

But now something has changed. I don't get the same reception when I look over and smile at older folks. I don't get the same reaction to my friendly comments. The same comments that used to end up in quality conversation between older folks and myself.... well, they are received more coolly today. These people are more interested in their own agendas now. These are the same elderly folks who are healthier, living longer, and are more well off than those of the past. They are busier, often having to look after their grandchildren more. They are taking more extravagant vacations; they have bigger motor homes. They own condos at the beach and in the mountains. But something isn't the same, and I don't know how else to express it. Maybe some of my readers can help me out.

Anyway, I miss the World War 2 generation very much. I miss their special qualities. I feel that we and our modern culture are much poorer without these people around.

I will close this post with photos of my parents in their heyday.





Here is my mother in her early 20s, some time in the mid1940s.



















This is my mom when she was 18 years old, a typical teenage girl. Looks like a typical 18 year old of today, does she not?

















This is my mom with my Great Aunt Anna, who was born in 1883. She was even older then. By the time she and I were friends, she was in her 80s and 90s. We had so much fun together, once a week. She'd let me comb her hair, paint her nails, and she would participate in any craft or art activity that I had planned for that evening. She was a gentle soul.





This is my dad in his football uniform.














Dad during his tour of France. Too bad there was combat going on at the time. It would have been a splendid vacation.


















Another cherished photo of him in uniform.














My mom is sitting there in front on the right. They played the music, and she sang for the audience. She wasn't even 20 yet. She did sing professionally for awhile. This was the "pop music" of her day. How greatly things have changed!







I suppose I am just a hopeless traditionalist, or at least decades behind my time.