LJ Idol 02: A Simpler Time

[bewize]

Nostalgia is a strange and beautiful emotion, but it's also dangerous. It encourages us to look back at the past and see the best parts, shining like a beacon that scolds us from moving away from our values. It hides the dirt and grime, the blood and the guilt, of eras past under the black and white veneer of a photograph or memory.

In 1945, my grandfather lived in the same city I live in now. He was back from The War, as he still calls it, and living in government housing for soldiers. He attended college on the GI Bill. He still fondly recalls those days, living in a warehouse that had been turned into homes, with walls that could be rolled away so that his kitchen transformed into his neighbors' living room and my father, when he arrived, could be babysat without ever leaving the comfortable warmth provided by my grandmother's stove.

The housing was roughly 40 miles away from the college, but as most of The Boys, as my grandfather still calls them, were attending school right along side him, my grandfather could usually bum a ride from a friend, since he had no car.

When he couldn't catch a ride from someone he knew, Pop would hitchhike. His uniform guaranteed that someone would always stop for him. Even when he had to walk part of the road on his own two feet, he was usually accompanied by a friend, and the dusty roads of Georgia were a far cry from the worn battlefields of Northern Africa, where he'd been stationed.

I love to hear my grandfather talk about The War and The Boys and sometimes, when I'm sitting in a two hour traffic jam to go a tenth of the distance he used to hitchhike in half the time, I'm tempted to give in and believe in the power of nostalgia.

"It was a simpler time," they say. "It was easier then, good versus bad, right versus wrong; we were saving the world."

My grandfather, with encouragement, will talk about sneaking off base, when he was stationed in the States, to secretly spend the night with my grandmother. They were married, but wives weren't permitted on the military base. He jokes about having professors who were part of the military, but didn't have the same high rank that my grandfather had, and who would be forced to salute him, even when they were marking points off his assignments.

When I was six, I found a medal in his dresser and he told me how his plane would drop bombs on Italy and Algeria. He described, in fascinating detail, how he would sometimes have to put on an oxygen mask, and climb outside the plane, clinging to it as it soared miles over the earth, and jump up and down on a bomb until the mechanism would release it, because they couldn't land with it attached and it had frozen to the plane. He literally flew on the back of a prayer, asking God to give him strength so that he wouldn't slip, that he wouldn't let go as the bomb fell because his hands were frozen to the point that he couldn't tell if he was holding the handgrip or not.

I found pictures of his friends, and he would tell stories about how they pulled pranks on each other and how they traded cigarettes instead of money and what it was like for a "southern boy" to see the world on the government dollar.

Sometimes, I would ask what happened to his friends and he would point to a few and proudly tell me what they had done with their lives. Doctors. Engineers. Scientists. Pastors. Fathers. Husbands.

"What about this guy, Pop? Or that one? Or him?"

His smile would dry up, but the pride was still there. "His plane crashed over the Mediterranean. He was shot down over Italy. He died of illness in The War."

My gaze would wander back to the picture of his graduating class. "Did all The Boys go to school, Pop?"

"Not all of them. But a lot of them. We worked our way up in the world."

"What about the women?"

"Women didn't go to school so often then."

I studied the picture. He was right. Not one of the happy shining faces belonged to a girl.

"Were all the soldiers white, Pop?"

"No, not all of them."

"Did the black soldiers go to school?"

"They went to their schools." He answered, uncomfortable now with my questions.

I studied the picture again. He was right. All of the men, looking so proud, still in their uniforms, were white.

I went to a women's college. Everyone in my graduating class was female. Nearly half of us weren't white. Today, one of my friend's sisters goes to the same school where my grandfather worked his way up in the world. She is a first generation American, her parents (and older sister) were born in India. Her pictures are filled with people of both genders and all races.

She complains about the commute, the same as I do.

My grandfather climbed hills, both ways, barefoot when he had too, and complained about it as bitterly as I complain about sitting in traffic jams. Time and distance have faded the memories, so that he recalls the scents of spices in the markets, and not the smell of gunpowder. He remembers the laughter and not the tears. He recalls the stolen kisses with my grandmother and not the months of loneliness.

I would no sooner take that away from him, or discredit it, than I would physically hurt him. Still, I can't help but think that nostalgia has no room, behind its shiny black and white veneer, for the rest of the story. It has no room for the men and women, of all colors, who died while The Boys fought The War to save the world.

It has no room for the poor who couldn't afford college.

It has no room for the marginalized that left one war only to return home to fight other battles.

"It was a simpler time," they say. They lie.

My grandfather fought a war to make the world a better place.

Now it's my turn.

This entry was written in response to the therealljidol Topic 02: Uphill, barefoot, both ways. There will (probably) be voting for this week's entries. I will make sure to link to the poll once it is put up and I would appreciate it if you would vote for me if you enjoy my entry. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.

Comments

[stormkitty.livejournal.com]

I really like this entry. It's very touching and powerful.

[comedychick.livejournal.com]

Nostalgia really does make us believe things were better even in times when maybe they weren't.

He jokes about having professors who were part of the military, but didn't have the same high rank that my grandfather had, and who would be forced to salute him, even when they were marking points off his assignments.

I think I am maybe more amused at this than I should be, but picturing that in my mind is great.

I liked the message in your story, and pointing out how things had improved with the school now allowing others to studied there. Great piece.

[beloved-tree.livejournal.com]

I am really delighted, among the numerous "back in ______ day things were simpler" offerings this week, to see an entry that gives the lie to the "back in ____ day things were simpler" attitude. Fabulous.

[edith-jones.livejournal.com]

This was really beautiful and thoughtful. There are ideas in it that remind me of Andrea Levy's Small World in which it talks of a Britain that was glad enough to use Jamaican men to fight in the British army, and then wanted them to get the hell out of Britain when the war was over as they didn't belong in "their" country.
-Allie.

[oneonthefence.livejournal.com]

Very powerful, and that last line hit me very hard. Beautifully done.

[shadowwolf13]

This is really well done and speaks to many things. :)

[beautyofgrey.livejournal.com]

Very well said.

[jenandbronze.livejournal.com]

You used some extremely powerful descrptive emotions to convey your feelings, which made it so much more touching to read.

Great job.

[johnmill79.livejournal.com]

Best piece I've ever seen from you. Wow! I just said something about how people are always talking about simpler times this and simpler times that in another entry. It is so true. We have fought and will probably fight the same battles throughout human existence, because sadly people just never seem to get it.

[http://users.livejournal.com/____hejira/]

Fabulous.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_mysticalelf/]

Loved your take on the subject. Thanks so much for sharing.

[geniusinmaine.livejournal.com]

I will always look back on my last two years of high school as if they were the best years of my lives, though there probably were bad times then as well.

[zia-narratora.livejournal.com]

I remember reading about how when the French asked that French troops be used to "officially" liberate France, the Americans told them that they could only have French troops do it if the French troops were all white. Which is ridiculously ridiculous. There was only one African-American batallion at D-Day...because they weren't allowed to be there.

I think that in one sense he is right-- in the sense of the war. The soldiers who fought knew they were doing the right thing, knew that the Germans were wrong, knew that they could fight to protect the lives of people everywhere and know they were doing the right thing. Soldiers today don't have it so easy. The wars we're fighting are morally ambiguous and don't often have clear enemies.

But beyond the right v. wrong clarity of the second world war, you are completely right. Things weren't simpler. It's just that only the simplicity was related.

[sherriola.livejournal.com]

I really liked this. In a few words, you show us your grandfather's world and sacrifice, but you also show us how much really hasn't changed and how much has. I like your grandfather's spirit, looking at the good things, like the stolen nights with his wife.

[onda-bianca.livejournal.com]

Nice entry...well written.

[java-fiend.livejournal.com]

Very powerful words. I love this entry... it really says so much and has such a wonderful message. Thanks for writing this... it's beautiful.

[norda.livejournal.com]

Beautifully done.

[twistersflower.livejournal.com]

Great post! It gave me a lot of food for thought. I am often nostalgic for the 1950s (when I was a child - my mother is probably the same age as your grandfather or a little older) because back then most middle class families had it much easier than they do now. (Most parts of Manhattan, now exclusively the playground of the rich unless like me you're rent controlled, housed families of all classes and small mom and pop stores.) Most families only needed one breadwinner. Middle class wives, like my mother, stayed home all day and when my father was at work and I was at school she read, embroidered, played scrabble with friends and had a maid. Who was black. She claims she didn't want a career (I often envy her her leisure, something I've never ever had in almost 60 years of manless life) but maybe it just never occurreed to her. We wouldn't travel south of DC because that was the evil part of the country where Black people got lynched. We heard about Emmet Till being murdered for whistling. And all gay people were considered criminals. But unlike you, I'm still nostalgic at times. I'd love to stay home and pursue my arts while someone else worked!

[poppetawoppet.livejournal.com]

I really like how you took the topic and kind of turned it around!

[markmade.livejournal.com]

Great job :)

[rosepurr.livejournal.com]

Amazing.

[thndrstd.livejournal.com]

Great entry.

[liret.livejournal.com]

I'm glad to see someone point this out - the good old days may have been simpler, but they weren't all that good for everybody.

[roina-arwen.livejournal.com]

Very well written, it made me cry a little. So many people romanticize the past, and this piece is both vibrant and true and thoughtful. Well done!

[baxaphobia.livejournal.com]

Times were so different then. So much pride but so much sadness and discrimination. But there is so much today. Have we really come so far? hmmm.

[karmasoup.livejournal.com]

I think the way our brains hold on the best parts of the past and let the rest fade away is why they call it Nostalgia, and not just recollection or History. I think that may be our brain's way of dealing with, and part of what makes us human.

[majesticarky.livejournal.com]

Very well-written. The world has become a much different place. Back then, then only white men thought that they could save the world. These days, it's changing. I really like how you tied in both generations in your story. Well-done.

[talonkarrde88.livejournal.com]

I liked this; it was sentimental without being cliche, and explored the darker parts of memory that many other entries haven't.

And it ends on a good note :).

[dabhug.livejournal.com]

This made me tear up a bit. I like it a lot, it feels very familiar to me. And that's why I love your writing so much, it is familiar.

[walkertxkitty.livejournal.com]

Beautifully written. I really like the way you wove your stories in with the topic in mind.