Howe, writing for
Forbes Magazine, there are about 20 million of us in our
70's and 80's still
around who were
born between 1925 and 1942.
We've been labeled, the "Silent Generation." It was
Time Magazine that first called us that in 1951 and I
think it was meant as an insult.
Time Magazine that first called us that in 1951 and I
think it was meant as an insult.
Well, as some great philosopher once said, "Sticks
and stones may break my bones, but..."
and stones may break my bones, but..."
Being a card carrying member of that generation, I
wish we had a dynamite name like, "The Greatest
Generation"...but that title has already been taken,
plus, we didn't do a damm thing to earn it...
such as overcoming a depression or fightng
and winning a war of survival as our parents did, so
something like the "Being There Generation" would
be more appropriate. (From the Peter Sellers movie.
See below.)
wish we had a dynamite name like, "The Greatest
Generation"...but that title has already been taken,
plus, we didn't do a damm thing to earn it...
such as overcoming a depression or fightng
and winning a war of survival as our parents did, so
something like the "Being There Generation" would
be more appropriate. (From the Peter Sellers movie.
See below.)
when we first began. Older people were fighting
desperately for our survival while we were
mindlessly growing up. Yeah, we had scrap drives,
rolled "silver paper" from candy bars into balls to
include in scrap metal collections, endured a few
bubble gum-less, hershey bar-deprived years, but
that's about it.
Demographer Richard Easterlin, in his 1980 book Birth and Fortune, called us the “Lucky” or “Fortunate” generation for our "great timing. He clamed that we "could earn more by age 30 than the average wage for men of all ages in the same profession...and could certainly live better than most "retired" elders."
When we got out of school, a growing economy was waiting for us.
Easterling points out that being small in number due to low birthrates during the 1930s and early ‘40s—we benefited from labor markets that bid up our wages in an era when young adults were relatively scarce.
And, when we retired there was (and is) still a little money in the Social Security "lock box." Not sure how long it will be there, but so far, so good.
Now, there's a lot of truth to these statistics, but
still, they are just statistics, which, of course, "99
percent of which only tell 49 percent of the story."
still, they are just statistics, which, of course, "99
percent of which only tell 49 percent of the story."
Not all of us prospered, or found it as "easy" as the
numbers suggest. We had our ups and downs just
like most others.
But, there's no question about ours being a
"blessed generaton!"
Now, hopefully, our good luck will continue to bless
our children and grandchildren.
our children and grandchildren.
-Ed
"Being There"
Chance (Peter Sellers) is a middle-aged man who lives in the townhouse of an old, wealthy man in Washington, D.C. He is simple-minded and has lived there his whole life, tending the garden. Other than gardening, his knowledge is derived entirely from what he sees on television. When his benefactor dies, Chance naively says to the estate attorney that he has no claim against the estate, and is ordered to move out. Thus he discovers the outside world for the first time.
Chance wanders aimlessly. He passes by a TV shop and sees himself captured by a camera in the shop window. Entranced, he steps backward off the sidewalk and is struck by a chauffeured car owned by Ben Rand (Melvyn Douglas), an elderly business mogul. In the back seat of the car sits Rand's much younger wife, Eve (Shirley MacLaine).
 |
| "Chauncey Gardiner" |
during the car ride home, Chance coughs as he tells Eve his name. Eve mishears "Chance, the gardener" as "Chauncey Gardiner". Chauncey is wearing expensive tailored clothes from the 1920s and '30s, which his benefactor had allowed him to take from the attic, and his manners are old-fashioned and courtly. When Ben Rand meets him, he assumes from these signs that Chauncey is an upper-class, highly educated businessman. Chauncey's simple words, spoken often due to confusion or to a stating of the obvious, are repeatedly misunderstood as profound; in particular, his simplistic utterances about gardens and the weather are interpreted as allegorical statements about business and the state of the economy. Rand admires him, finding him direct and insightful.
