12/27/2025
I was raised by this generation. My Dad is in this bracket.
“If you were born between 1930 and 1946, you belong to a group that is almost gone. Fewer than one out of every hundred from your time is still here.
Today you are in your late seventies, eighties, or nineties, carrying memories that no book or documentary can truly capture.
You entered the world when survival mattered. The Great Depression had stripped families down to the basics, and before the wounds could fully heal, the world was pulled into war.
You learned early that nothing was free and nothing was wasted.
Bread was stretched. Clothes were patched. Milk was measured.
Your parents taught you that gratitude was not a feeling but a way of life.
You remember the milkman stopping at the house. You remember teachers who demanded respect and parents who backed them up. There was no room for excuses.
You stood up straight, did what needed to be done, and learned the meaning of responsibility long before the word became fashionable.
There were no glowing screens filling the room. Fun came from your own hands and your own mind.
You played ball in the street, ran barefoot on hot pavement, and stayed outside until the lights flicked on. At night, families gathered close to the radio. Not just for news, but to feel connected. Voices from far away filled the room and brought everyone together.
Technology moved slowly then, and that was a gift. Phones were shared. If you wanted to talk, you waited your turn. Math was done with pencil and paper. Letters were typed or written by hand.
The newspaper landed on the doorstep each morning and told you what mattered, not what shouted the loudest.
You came of age after war, during a stretch of hope that felt earned.
There was no internet to distract or overwhelm. No endless alerts. Just the belief that if you worked hard, kept your word, and showed up every day, life would move forward.
You remember when black and white television felt like magic.
When highways were fewer and trips took longer.
When downtown shopping meant greeting people by name. You remember the fear of polio and the relief when science finally pushed it back.
Childhood was not easy, but it was real.
While your parents rebuilt the nation piece by piece, you watched cities rise, machines improve, and possibilities expand. You lived through changes that reshaped the country and set the stage for everything that followed.
If you are over 77 today, pause for a moment. You are living history.
You carry lessons forged in hardship and hope, discipline and patience, community and resilience.
The world you knew shaped the world we live in now.
You are one in a hundred.
And that is something worth honoring.”
Need to bring this back. 🇺🇸
