Recalling a Happy, American, Childhood

Op-ed by TheWiseOldFart

This is a “grandpa story.” I want to tell you all about my childhood. I know that I was lucky to have grown up in the 1950’s and 1960’s. I truly feel sorry for today’s children who never knew what it was like to be a child in America after the end of WWII.

I cannot relate to what it was like for a child under the age of 12 or 13 to be a child before WWII or in the 1970’s and beyond. I can tell you without reservation that no one in history had a greater childhood compared to my own, and I feel a deep sense of gratitude every time I think of my younger life.

I had a serious health emergency at the age of five. It was only a few years ago when I understood what the root cause of that situation was.

My father was physically and mentally abusive. He cursed my mother and physically assaulted her for as long as I can remember. I feared and hated him. One of the greatest days in my life was when he left us for the last time when I was 12 or 13.

What I didn’t know then and know now, is how destructive PTSD has been over the last century.

My father served in the United States Navy in WWII. I have no idea what horrors he experienced during that terrible time in history. However, from the time I have memories of my childhood, I knew he was a violent alcoholic and seemed to be lost. He couldn’t keep a job and never made me feel loved or wanted. The odd thing was, he appeared to care a great deal for my younger brother. I will never know the answers to the many questions I had and have today, and that’s okay. All I can tell you is that he died at the age of 63 somewhere in America.

I didn’t intend to begin this story on a somber note. However, when he was not in our home during those times, I truly enjoyed my childhood.

When my father was no longer in our lives, my brother and I were ‘latchkey’ kids at a very early age out of necessity. Our mother was a single parent who worked an average of about 50 hours a week. My brother, John, and I understood the situation and accepted responsibilities not meant for small children. However, she was wise. During our most important years, our apartment was located on the same street as our school and our church. There was an old house next to our building. Next to the house was the Convent, then the Rectory, the Church and our school.

John and I were typical American boys. We loved sports, especially baseball and basketball, comic books, and television. We never had money in our pockets, but we made up games and challenged ourselves to always do more than we believed were within our capabilities. We had lots of friends and after school and on weekends we were enjoying our lives in Southern California. Most of it was spent outdoors.

In the summers, while our mother was at work, we walked miles to Venice and Santa Monica beaches and body-surfed for hours. A municipal pool was within walking distance, as well as a movie theater where we enjoyed Saturday matinees.

During the months we were in school, mom worked most Saturdays. We woke up, watched cartoons and other Saturday morning shows including “Sky King,” “Fury,” and sometimes a “Charlie Chan” movie. Then we rode our bikes to local parks, hoping to find a game of baseball or football.

We were a German Catholic family. Our Sundays were spent in church and then with our grandparents and other relatives who might show up for Sunday dinner.

We didn’t know we were poor because we didn’t need the physical possessions our young men and women enjoy today.

In the summers, when we were not at a beach, we played in sprinklers, played games like dodgeball or kickball, roller skated, and played tag. All year long we played table games with our friends and were never bored. We didn’t need computers, televisions, or cell phones to pass the time. We were always active and eager for the next day and the adventures which might come with our friends.

When we were outside and became thirsty, we didn’t have bottled water, we drank from any hose available. The water was often warm but it quenched our thirst.

As I became a teenager, there were girls of the same age in our apartment building and others near us. We flirted, although we had no idea what that meant. I kissed my first girl at the age of ten and I have never forgotten that feeling. In my teens it only got better.

Some parents would allow their children to have parties. Under the watchful eyes of adults, we danced to the music of our generation. I was always thrilled when a Johnny Mathis record was played and I was allowed to hold a girl close as we danced.

Yes, those were innocent times and every memory I possess fills me with warm feelings and I am certain smiles on my face. This is probably why my favorite song will always be “In My Life,” by the Beatles.

Thinking about music, no generation will experience what I enjoyed in my life. On September 9, 1956, Elvis Presley made his first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show. The network prevented the cameras from showing his movements from the waist down.

On February 9, 1964, the Beatles made their first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show. I would graduate from high school just four months later.

The list of legendary bands I saw on television, or rarely in person, would fill several pages. Included are the Rolling Stones, The Who, The Byrds, The Grateful Dead, Pink Floyd, Cream, The Supremes, Three Dog Night, James Brown, Ten Years After, and later, Crosby Stills Nash and Young. There were many more.

There will never be another time in history when such a large number of great musicians appeared on stage and television.

The most incredible music festival in history, never to be repeated, happened on August 15 thru August 18, 1969. Woodstock was focused on the evils of the devastation caused by the war in South Vietnam. However, the performances of some of the most legendary bands and performers in American history will live forever.

I loved the experiences of my youth, including high school. These are my fondest memories of this extraordinary country prior to becoming an adult who was forced to face reality.

America was never perfect, but it could have been if the people had been the focus of our government, and not the profits of the super-rich.

The final truth. When possessions became the focus of what it meant to become an American, the decline of America’s future became a reality. Credit cards, created by greedy corporations, appeared to be a boon for those who sought the possession of the latest “toys,” including cell phones, cars, and other status symbols.

The simpler life was far superior. My generation was creative, inventive, and determined to find happiness in the little things: at least before television advertising told us we needed “more and more” and more “things” would make us happy.

Are you truly happy today?

Op-ed by James Turnage

Follow my blog and be informed

If you like to read, my 10^th novel, “Alex Stafford had to Die,” is available on Amazon’s Kindle