The story with the above title and author is something I found recently in with all my old papers. I don’t know where it came from or how I ever got it, but it appeared just at the right time.
From the beginning to the end of reading it, I knew I wanted to use it for the Delaware Gazette. It was definitely written for the “Children of the 1930s,” and I am one of them. And so, for those of us who are still left, it speaks to us loud and clear.
If you have any connection with the 1930s, read and enjoy, because he is talking to YOU.
“Born in the 1930’s we exist as a very special age cohort. We are the “last ones.” We are the last, climbing out of the depression, who can remember the winds of war and the war itself with fathers and uncles going off. We are the last to remember ration books for everything from sugar to shoes to stoves. We saved tin foil and poured fat into tin cans. We saw cars up on blocks because tires weren’t available. My mother delivered milk in a horse drawn cart.
We are the last to hear Roosevelt’s radio assurances and to see gold stars in the front windows of our grieving neighbors. We can also remember the parades on August 15, 1945: VJ Day.
We saw the “boys” home from the war, build their Cape Cod style houses, pouring the cellar, tar papering it over and living there until they could afford the time and money to build it out.
The lack of television in our early years meant, for most of us, that we had little real understanding of what the
world was like. Our Saturday afternoons, if at the movies, gave us newsreels of the war and the holocaust sandwiched in between westerns and cartoons.
Newspapers and magazines were written for adults. We are the last who had to find out for ourselves.
As we grew up, the country was exploding with growth. The G.I. Bill gave returning veterans the means to get an education and spurred colleges to grow. VA loans fanned a housing boom. Pent-up demand coupled with new installment payment plans put factories to work. New highways would bring jobs and mobility. The veterans joined civic clubs and became active in politics. In the late ‘40’s and early ‘50’s the country seemed to lie in the embrace of brisk but quiet order as it gave birth to its new middle class.
Our parents understandably became absorbed with their own new lives. They were free from the confines of the depression and the war. They threw themselves into exploring opportunities they had never imagined. We weren’t neglected but we weren’t today’s all-consuming family focus. They were glad we played by ourselves ‘till the street lights came on.’ They were busy discovering the post war world.
Most of us had no life plan, but with the unexpected virtue of ignorance and an economic rising tide, we simply stepped into the world and went to find out. We entered a world of overflowing plenty and opportunity; a world where we were welcomed. Based on our naive belief that there was more where this came from, we shaped life as we went.
We enjoyed a luxury; we felt secure in our future. Of course, just as today, not all Americans shared in this experience. Depression poverty was deep rooted. Polio was still a crippler.
The Korean War was a dark presage in the early ’50s and by mid-decade, school children were ducking under desks. China became Red China. Eisenhower sent the first ‘advisors’ to Vietnam. Castro set up camp in Cuba and Khrushchev came to power.
We are the last to experience an interlude when there were no existential threats to our homeland. We came of age in the late ’40s and early ’50s. The war was over and the cold war, terrorism, climate change, technological upheaval and perpetual economic insecurity had yet to haunt life with insistent unease.
Only we can remember both a time of apocalyptic war and a time when our world was secure and full of bright promise and plenty. We experienced both.
We grew up at the best possible time, a time when the world was getting better not worse.
We are the ‘last ones.’”
The above ends the article I had saved that was written by Carl Peterson.
I hope it spoke to all of you who were born in the 1930s, as it spoke to me.
Kay E. Conklin is a retired Delaware County recorder who served four terms. She graduated from Ohio Wesleyan University with a degree in sociology and anthropology.
