Born in the 1930s and early 1940s, 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.

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 are the last who spent childhood without television, instead imagining what we heard on the radio. As we all like to brag, with no TV, we spent our childhood “playing outside until the streetlights came on.” We did play outside and we did play on our own. There was no little league.

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 40s and early 50s 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 allconsuming family focus. They were glad we played by ourselves “until the streetlights 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 naïve 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 deeprooted. Polio was still a crippler. The Korean War was a dark presage in the early 1950s and by middecade 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 1940s and early 1950s. 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 did not have it easy. Our wages were low; we did without; we lived within our means; we worked hard to get a job; and harder still to keep it. Things that today are considered necessities, we considered unreachable luxuries. We made things last. We fixed, rather than replaced. We had values and did not take for granted that “somebody will take care of us.” We cared for ourselves and we also cared for others. We are the “last ones.”

By Denise Eyherabide

COVID-19 has not been good overall for our country but some good things have come out of it. From the Baptist Messenger…..

4 Things Our Children Will Remember About COVID-19

Watergate television updates in 1972 were nothing more than interruptions to my cartoons. As a seven-year-old, I remember wondering how the whole White House got flooded in the first place. Children are not supposed to feel the weight of the world, much less understand it. As our children and grandchildren struggle to grasp the implications of COVID-19, there are a few concrete concepts we can help them with which will remain for the rest of their lives.

Our children will remember how much we trusted God

Deuteronomy is basically a review of the Mosaic law, written for the children of the Exodus Generation, aka: the Joshua Generation. That younger generation was faced with the same hard decision their parents had about whether to possess the land or play it safe. Moses reminded them that their parents panicked at the Promised Land instead of possessing it, as the LORD God told them to.

“The Promise Land” gets its name from God’s promise to give them the land of Canaan by empowering them to take it from their hostile, godless neighbors.

“The LORD your God who goes before you will fight for you, just as you saw him do for you in Egypt.” (Deut 1:30 CSB)

The Exodus generation was terrified of the Canaanites, even though they saw firsathand the ten plagues unleashed on Egypt. They were also eyewitnesses to the parting of the Red Sea, which led to both their safe exit as well as the demise of the world’s most powerful army.

Their children were now faced with the same opportunity forty years later to stay in the familiar desert or go in and possess the land. Thankfully, that generation learned from their parents’ mistakes by trusting in the faithfulness of God instead of repeating them.

Our children will remember how well we took care of each other

I’m afraid we are all stuck with the unfortunate toilet paper byline of this Coronavirus story. However, new stories are daily being told of heroism by our healthcare workers, first responders, and multitudes of other good neighbors—including pastors and churches.

As this Coronavirus story is being written each day, ask yourself how you will become a positive part of it. Ask also how your children can contribute. Your children can glorify God in the middle of this crisis and in turn pass that legacy on to their children one day.

Joshua’s generation not only trusted God more than their parents did, but so did their own children who watched them bravely possess the land.

Our children will remember how God provided

There is nothing unspiritual about being concerned about your family’s safety and security. No one can guarantee that we will come out of this unscathed, but we do have a great opportunity to show our children how big we believe God is. The bigger our God is to our children, the smaller our challenges will seem to them, and us.

I don’t want to sound ungrateful for whatever part the $2 trillion-dollar Stimulus Package will play to help us, but we are basically borrowing from ourselves, and our children. I suggest that we flip the script of this story by lifting Jesus up as the Savior He really is.

Our children will remember the extra attention they got from us

For adults, this awkward asylum is an excellent opportunity to invest in the most important people in our lives—our family. Our children and grandchildren will probably remember this crisis as being the longest and best Spring Break of their lives. They are likely less concerned about the cancelled vacation than we are because they just want our loving attention.

Believer, will you panic during this pandemic or will you seize this opportunity to trust God? Will you look out for only for yourself or also for the interests of others? Will you seize this opportunity to make a lifetime memory with your children, which could benefit their children? Our response to this pandemic not only impacts our children and our legacy, but also God’s glory.

Perspective

Today I stood at my window and cursed the pouring rain,

Today a desperate farmer prayed for his fields of grain.

My weekend plans are ruined, it almost makes me cry

While the farmer lifts his arms and blesses the clouded sky.

The alarm went off on Monday and I cursed my work routine,

Next door a laid-off mechanic feels the empty pockets of his jeans.

I can’t wait for my vacation, some time to take for me,

He doesn’t know tonight how he’ll feed his family.

I cursed my leaky roof and the grass I need to mow,

A homeless man downtown checks for change in the telephone.

I need a new car, mine is getting really old,

He huddles in a doorway, seeking shelter from the cold.

With blessings I’m surrounded, the rain, a job, a home,

Though my eyes are often blinded by the things I think I own.