I was born in the middle of the Depression. Two brothers preceded me, and I was followed by a sister. My two brothers were both born in hospitals, but my sister and I were born at home. I guess my folks couldn’t afford any more hospital bills. We lived on Whidbey Island, located in Puget Sound in Washington state. We lived in a remote location, so our upbringing was probably a lot different from children raised in an urban environment such as Seattle.
Our lifestyle was pretty much the same as our neighbors and friends, so our living conditions were not unique. Our formative years were shaped by the Great Depression, World War II, Truman, and Ike. Comparing our standard of living then with today’s, one would probably consider it to have been below the poverty level. We had what we needed and didn’t have to take welfare, even if it was available.
Here is how things were back in my day:
Marriage was between a man and a woman. They stayed together for life. Divorces were an exception.
Couples had children and were expected to love and care for them to the best of their ability.
Children contributed time and effort to the family unit. These contributions were called “chores.” Our chores consisted of gathering and bringing in wood for heat and cooking, washing dishes, feeding the animals, working in the garden, digging a new pit for the outhouse, putting up hay for the winter, digging clams, and catching crabs for dinner to name a few. Allowances were not provided.
We were encouraged to begin earning and saving money early on. If we wanted to purchase stuff beyond what our parents provided, the money came out of our pocket. We expected nothing less. I bought my first bike and car with the money I earned.
The only vices I can remember when growing up were smoking and drinking beer. Drugs were unheard of. Out-of-wedlock births were rare.
We said the Pledge of Allegiance every morning in grade school. We learned the 3 R’s and were graded on our accomplishments—or lack thereof.
Our parents paid for our school lunches, or more than likely, we brought a sack lunch. I even saved the sack and waxed paper. In my senior year, I cleaned the cafeteria after school to pay for my lunches.
We respected our elders and stayed out of trouble.
We were given the territory and opportunity to roam where we wanted. It was up to us to decide what we were going to do with our free time. Free time came after the chores were done. Most of the time, our parents didn’t know where we were. A standing rule was: “Be home for dinner.” We had no TV, cellphones, internet, or computer games, only a radio for evening programs.
Kids were expected to attend and graduate from high school. Going on to college was strongly encouraged. All four of us kids attended college. My brother and I graduated. We were able to work and pay our own way, with some help from our parents when they could. I graduated with $150 in student debt.
Our parents included us in a lot of activities. These included camping, mountain backpack trips, fishing, coming to our sports events, and letting us kids go with Dad to some of his work sites.
I am 86 and my wife, Celie, is 82. We are both physically active and involved in church and community affairs. I would encourage everyone to get involved in community activities. We should be willing to contribute our time and talent. Celie and I have been married for 55 years and have two children, both with families.
The contrast between what it was like to be raised in the ‘30s, ’40s, and ‘50s against today’s environment is truly striking. I consider my growing-up period as the best of times. Young people today are working under a whole new set of rules, and the rules are not good. I find it incredible how far our society has declined since the time I was growing up until today. This nation has got to reverse course if we hope to save this next generation and this country.
A 90-Year-Old’s Birthday Speech: Time and Chance
I was born in 1932. At that time, the birth rate was on a steep decline. A great jazz song summed it up eloquently: “There ain’t no romance without finance.” Baby Joe, with his usual sense of perfect timing, came into this world during the heyday of the Great Depression. The Great Depression didn’t only take an economic toll; fear left some of our parents emotionally disturbed. My mother was neurotic. I am neurotic!Children are usually doing something they shouldn’t; this promotes their fear. Since we were always afraid of getting caught by adults, we were keen observers of their behavior. We were all eyes and ears. When they had conversations and when we were present, sometimes, one would say, “They don’t know what we are talking about.” We knew!
Our world extended only as far as our feet would take us. This was not a bad thing. Walking slowly, we were conscious of our little world and had time to think as well as be very observant. On Dec. 7, 1941, as I was walking in Brooklyn on Avenue P., I overheard some adults excitedly talking: “The Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor.” Pearl Harbor? I never heard of it. I went home and located it on my World Atlas. It was halfway around the world.
World War II was the most monumental event in my lifetime. To this day, it has shaped my very being. I have never looked at things the same way again!
Our leaders thought it was best for us that they not tell the public how badly the war was initially going. Soldiers with their .50-caliber machine guns in sandbag emplacements along the Coney Island boardwalk were placed there to show the public that we were prepared. In truth, the Axis could not possibly mount an air attack on Brooklyn. However, it was comforting to know that Nathan’s was well defended.
We became “the arsenal of democracy.” The defense industry boomed. There were well-paying jobs for everyone. The Depression was over at last. The people were united in our effort to defeat the Axis powers.
Gradually on all fronts, the Allies started to win the war. The culmination of all this effort resulted in the Axis powers unconditionally surrendering. One morning, I was awakened to the sounds of a car driver deliberately backfiring his car. Finally, the war was over!
During the war, a group of us boys became fascinated with airplanes. We could identify most Allied and Axis aircraft and argue about their relative merits. Our Lockheed P-38 Lightning was faster than the German ME 109, but the ME 109 had fuel injection and could turn a tighter circle, and so it went. I wrote to our airplane manufacturers asking for photos of their aircraft. My wall was covered with beautiful color photos of them. We knew that our chances of flying in a warplane was not going to happen. So, for us, we would build and fly gas-engine-powered flying models that we could control.
U-Control would be best for us. We had a device called a U-Reely control handle that we used. Tilt the handle up, the plane would climb; tilt the handle down, the plane would dive. The control handle had two light wires that were tethered to the airplane. We generally used about 75 feet of line. With the pilot standing in the center, he could fly the plane in a 150-foot diameter circle. Sometimes, this method was called “spindizzy.” If the pilot attained sufficient skill, it was possible for him to control the airplane in a wide range of aerobatics. But first, we had to learn how to build and fly the thing.
After many crashes, I learned that by careful attention to detail, perseverance, and patience, I would be successful. My plane flew successfully and I landed it in one piece. We literally jumped for joy and cheered. The Wright brothers couldn’t have been happier!
I thought that this experience would provide me with a framework for success in life. I was wrong! The other two factors that I didn’t take into account were timing and luck.
Robert Burns was plowing his field when he noticed that he destroyed a mouse nest. The mouse probably thought it had built a safe, snug home. All its labor, nest, and plans were upended in an instant.
“The best-laid plans of mice and men oft go amiss.”
After my divorce, I was that mouse. I lost everything that I had worked for in the most productive years of my life. I was homeless and reduced to my only possessions that would fit into my old blue van. Back to square one!
The turning point of the Pacific War with Japan was the Battle of Midway. We had broken the Japanese code and had information about when and where their aircraft carriers would be. These were the same ships that launched their aircraft that attacked Pearl Harbor on December 7. They had to be destroyed!
The plan was: Our torpedo planes and dive bombers would attack the Japanese fleet simultaneously, forcing the ships to divide their anti-aircraft fire. This was critical because the torpedo planes would be flying low and facing the broadsides of the ships with every antiaircraft gun firing at them, unless the ships had to fire at multiple angle targets.
As luck would have it, the torpedo planes and dive bombers missed their pre-appointed rendezvous time or place. This error assured that the Japanese ships would have much more effective antiaircraft fire. The torpedo planes arrived first, so they had to commence the attack alone. The Japanese ships shot down every torpedo plane. Then, the dive bombers arrived and were able to sink four aircraft carriers, as well as other ships. The thin line between triumph and tragedy, success and failure is often governed by time and chance.
If I have learned anything in my lifetime, it is: The vagaries of life preclude any certainties.
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