When I Was Your Age, Sonny!

 

When I Was Your Age, Sonny!

I really never thought I would live long enough to utter the words, "when I was your age, sonny", but here I am, signed, sealed and delivered, solidly considered an "elder". Over my lifetime, with growing sadness I've watched respect for fellow man, social graces and the family unit decay and deteriorate like a tattered rag doll of years gone by. I was raised in Northport in the 50's when "United We Stand" had a genuine meaning. When togetherness was a way of life. I revisited that feeling just 10 years after the collapse of the towers on September 11, 2011, when most folks let their guard down and acknowledged their friends, loved ones and neighbors, openly weeping and sharing their raw feelings if only for a day.

There was a time, long ago in Northport when this way of life was a birthright, an every-day norm. Most dads would come home from work, mom would make supper and the family would gather at the dinner table, exchanging thoughts and ideas, verbalizing intelligible phrases, celebrating triumphs of the day or venting frustrations. The warmth and richness of that event was knowing that you were a secure part of the family unit. After dinner, Dad would usually put his feet up and read the evening paper while Mom did the dishes. There were no dishwashers, just a large cast iron wall-hung kitchen sink with an integral dish drain. Things were a lot less complicated then.

Margaret, David & Steven Bruyn 1947

We always knew what to expect because we were held accountable for our little corner of the world. I hear a lot of bashing today about days of yore and allegations of "child cruelty", how the female of the species was "dissed" and more cries of inequality. Messages of "Ozzie and Harriet", and the "Leave it to Beaver clan ring in ridicule as though it were the plague. Admittedly early TV subject offerings raised the family unit perception to a plane that was not reasonably achievable, but one must remember....it was TV. In my opinion, these early TV shows were special because they portrayed wholesomeness, a concept that today, escapes definition.

In those simpler times, it was common for the family to sit outside in the early summer evenings, chatting with the neighbors while sipping iced tea, or we kids would perhaps play "Phantom", a hide and seek based game we devised with our own imaginations. When it got too dark, we went inside and often played cards or watched.....you guessed it....Ozzie and Harriet with street sounds floating through the open windows on the light summer breeze. Wintertime focused on sleigh riding, snow fun and of course, the big event, Christmas. Even at a young age, while we were anxious to receive those wonderful gifts, we were also filled with anticipation of those gifts we gave. At any season, our friends were welcome in our home to break bread as we were by their families in a similar fashion. I can remember being urged to "eat" by my friend's parents, a show of genuine concern. It wasn't a perfect life but a simple one, void of all the technological distractions that had not yet been invented. Air conditioning, big screen TV, video games, cell phones, texting (the list goes on) are examples of those modern "electronic babysitters" that have helped to isolate society and create a "me" generation with an entitlement mentality.

Back in the day, we created our own share of rowdiness, but it was not angry, vicious or threatening. We found recreation in one another's company, used our creativeness and communicated in audible sentences, a kind of socialization that begs for reprise. The act of helping one another was instinctive and commonplace, a code of conduct that still survives in us "old folks".

So, in this day of bigger, better and faster, I'd like to stop the clock for just a minute and eulogize the bygone era of human respect, dignity, character, honesty, fair play, and honor. They are not just words, but a way of life we inherited from our community, our teachers, and our parents. It is a way of life that I fear will descend into obliteration with the eventual demise of the baby boomer generation. As I hand over the torch, I do so with trepidation.