It’s the big war I’m talking about, Charlie. WWII. The last good war. The war that 98+% of the country supported. The villains were obvious and we really were the good guys.
I’m one of those pre-war babies born between 1936 and 1941. We pre-war babies of East Cambridge gathered the other night after 30 and more years of not getting together, not even writing, just hearing of each other from relatives.
The war was our first real memory; we didn’t play “cowboys” or “cops and robbers”; we shot Nazis from the trees and killed Kamikaze pilots (Japanese suicide bombers). We walked to the corner market with our mothers and wished she could buy something without using ration cards. We rolled up aluminum foil gum wrappers into large balls that, we were told, helped the war effort. Our sisters made bandages for the wounded. We shut the lights and closed the blinds when the air raid siren wailed. We learned a lot of geography reading the headlines in the daily newspaper. Our Saturday movie was preceded by newsreels of the battles our brothers, cousins and fathers were fighting. East Cambridge housed several Gold Star Mothers, whose sons had been killed in the war. I suspect that our being war-time youths has had a life long effect on us.
There were once twenty-five of us, but four have died; they succumbed to the typical twentieth century killers – cancer, heart problems and alcohol. Last night at our 21st century reunion the rest of us claimed to have lived fairly decent and interesting lives. I don’t mean to use the word ‘claimed’ pejoratively. Hell, we’ve all experienced the heartbreaks of living and loving (loss of loved ones, the breakdown of the body, loss of a job, etc.), but those were not the things we dwelt on last night; we noted them and moved on. We accept our humanity but, by and large, feel blessed. We celebrated the past. We laughed at the stupid and the funny things we did and realized how lucky we were to have survived for sixty and more years. We welcomed the future with the full knowledge that our time here is coming to a close.
Perseverance – perhaps the sine qua non of the war effort - was very much in evidence. Guys worked thirty and more years at the same place. Most of us are still married to the person who was the girl of our dreams in 1960. Most of us who graduated from college completed school when we were married. A few of us started businesses that made us a few dollars, but more importantly, gave us a sense of independence.
Talent abounded. Plant manager, CFO, foreman, CEO, master craftsman, teacher, salesman, engineer, musician, store manager, government worker. I don’t think we knew back then just how much talent we had. But, thank the Lord, we’ve all exercised whatever it was we had. Again, I go back to WWII in which so many seemingly very average guys excelled at saving this country and the world by using all the talents they had.
Yes, we’re slower now, but the energy is still there. We retirees are working part time, helping our church, golfing, learning who our children really are, baby sitting our grandkids, rooting for the Red Sox. At least one is still playing ball! Not only did this country need perseverance and talent in WWII we needed the energy to make things happen.
It was a helluva night!!
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