When the last of my parents’ generation is gone, there will be a huge void in the world. The last known Americans raised by parents that endured The Great Depression and World War II. People who put manners before self-gratification. People who taught their children that respect and character are worthwhile and noble values.
Their word was their anchor to a life dedicated to honesty and commitment to whatever their choices and fate set before them.
My parents and grandparents were not perfect. Just genuine. And a lot less needy and dissatisfied than the generations that followed. They were better at accepting what is than the rest of us.
I know these reflections make me sound like a sentimental old person. I just hope that, somehow, there is a glimmer of the beauty and truth of my parents and their generation’s approach to life that passes through me to my children….so that Dick (my Dad) and Rhetta (my Mom) will never be gone forever.
