Just Plain Bill
Remembering Dunkirk, and other benefits
from getting old
I faintly remember my mom
mentioning Dunkirk
during a family conversation when I was a very little boy. The name hasn’t
really meant anything to me until just recently, when the trailers from the
movie “Dunkirk” starting coming out.
The mention of Dunkirk has also
triggered the memory of my family listening to short wave radio reporting on
the English military, and their responses to attacks by Germany. Many of my
mother’s relatives were living in England and were experiencing the effects of
the bombings that often caused them to take shelter in the underground – the
subways throughout London. (This period also brings discussion about my Uncle
Tom, who was attacked with mustard gas in the First World War. He survived, but
died at a relatively young age.)
Writing about aging and
getting old often gives short shrifts to the benefits of having lived through
special times, experiencing first hand, events of historical significance that can
only be imagined or referred to as events to be read about in history books.
I spent most of my youth in
Oakland, California, a center of the war effort. Preparing for the possibility of
being attacked, maintaining the war effort, and the shameful treatment of the
Japanese were topics of ongoing discussion, pervading so many conversations.
All of this didn’t interrupt
my youthful routine, except for “black outs,” when lights were turned off at
night (except for the flashlight in the bathtub) in case enemy planes might fly
over, or the presence of air raid wardens walking the neighborhood, or scrap
drives collecting tin foil, rags, rubber bands, and cooking grease for use in
war preparation, or the resulting rationing of food and gasoline – all just a
part of a little boy growing up.
There is often the
temptation to respond to today’s complaints with “When I was your age”
comments, which have absolutely no impact on behavior or attitude except with
the common retort, “Boy, are you old.”
As I approach my 80s, there
are so many changes to reference: I’m so old, I actually paid $6 a night at
Motel 6. Gasoline was 25 cents a gallon. No FM radio or TV. Elevator operators
were real people. There were only about six brands of cereal and soda pop. Boys
on bicycles delivered morning and afternoon newspapers. No ball point pens. Only
three brands of sneakers. No private phone lines. And on and on...
One of many articles
focusing on “When I was your age” talks about the benefits of “intergenerational knowledge”, a subject near and dear to my heart as I’ve
returned to teaching children in our public schools. I hope to enrich the
curriculum by having “lived” many of the changes the books talk about – able to
provide an invaluable perspective not to be found elsewhere.