(grandparents)
Both of my
grandfathers served in the Second World War.
Until recently, though, I resisted referring to their generation as “the
greatest generation.” I chafed at the slight,
perceived or real, on my parent’s generation, mine, and now my sister’s
children and their contemporaries.
Be that as
it may, when I compare the response to the crises they had to endure to the response
of the current health crises that we’re still not done with; there is no
comparison.
They were
the last generation in our country to be called upon to give things up – big and
small – for an unknown, unspecified amount of time.
“Sugar will
be rationed until further notice” among many of those things.
And I don’t remember
hearing about any complaining. To the
best of my knowledge, nobody ever pitched a fit about their “right to bake
cookies.” Or stomped their feet and
wailed about how they should trusted to make good decisions and use their own judgement
about how much sugar they used. Nobody
that I’m aware of tried to sue their local council members over sugar mandates.
Side bar: in my grandmother's and great aunt's case, it
was fudge they desperately wanted to make.
If you ever get the opportunity, have my mother relate “the fudge story.” She’ll know what you’re talking about. It’s hilarious.
But I digress….
Nobody liked
it. Nobody enjoyed it. Everybody had some level of anxiety over all
the uncertainty. But there was a collective understanding of
common good and common effort against something “bigger” than the individual. Whatever troubles American society had at
that point, being able to work together towards a common goal was not one of
them once that war effort began.
Two things
occur to me as I reflect and write on this.
One: isn’t is sad that it took a devastating war (and what war isn’t
devastating?) to bring out that so far unequaled cohesion in our society?
And two:
Isn’t it sad
that when faced with a crises such as we have never seen and were not prepared
for AT ALL: we could not get it back? Even for a short time.
Does that
mean we have failed?
Even in my
bleakest moments I refuse to accept that.
In the darkest days of the pandemic when Covid seemed to be winning every
battle, I would hear about neighbors spontaneously dropping off supplies (even
toilet paper!) at their elderly neighbor’s doorway and waving at them safely
through the window.
Every time I
would get disheartened about the latest “mask war” and hearing about some poor
store employee getting screamed at and threatened for doing what their boss
told them to and thus staying employed…..it was hard to keep my spirits up; let’s
just say that.
Then a story
would appear on the news about someone pulling into the grocery store and
seeing someone still in their car, too nervous to go in and risk exposing
themselves to an unseen killer. After
some thought, this person walked over, asked what they needed, and offered to
go in and get it for them while they continued to wait safely in their car.
We’re not
through this yet. The dust is only
beginning to settle.
Don’t be the
person refusing to cooperate. Don’t be
the person harassing overwhelmed workers in places that still require
masks. Whatever your opinion may be, don’t
be the person that is part of the problem.
Be the
person showing far more empathy than that.
Be the
person with incredible kindness asking if they can help the other person who is
still nervous about being out.
Be the
person that is part of the solution to the healing we desperately need right
now.
