I remember

Caught a bit of Andy Rooney talking about the death of two of his friends. One being Bill Buckley. His comment about never ever being on the same side of an issue with Bill got me thinking about how differently my Grandfather's generation did things.

When my Grandfather retired finally and moved out of LA for good, back to where he grew up (in the summers) in Camden, Maine he would meet with a group of similarly aged friends he had over time become very close with. Maybe some he had served with in World War 2, some he knew from Sailing, H. Scheel was among the group for example. But aside from Scheel's name I didn't know who the others were. Just that it was a group of men who grew up in the depression, lived through the wars and made something of their life.

My grandfather was as articulate as Buckley and an incredibly successful businessman. And just as conservative. But most of these men he met with and called his friends were as liberal as they come here in New England. As Blue as he was Red. Yet, somehow. Like Andy Rooney and Bill Buckley they were friends. And they talked at length in person about these issues amongst each other.

There was something between these gentlemen that seems to have vanished lately. Now you dare not get in a discussion with someone else about a sensitive subject out of fear of turning them away or never seeing them again. Do you dare discuss abortion? Or religion? Or similar veins of controversy? What if you are on opposite sides of the issue?

It struck me that, their generation had one thing above all others: Respect. They first and fore most respected each other. And within that range differences abounded and were tolerated.

Just something that hit me as an awareness. I often think about my grandfather, often it is more along the lines of not so much positive like the time the squirrels were harassing my grandmother's garden. He bought the most expensive pellet rifle in town. And he took me and my cousin down by the water to sight it in. Neither of them could hit the paper plate target. Finally my cousin nailed an edge. I gave it a try and was grouping them dead center with ever shot. This is a single shot lever pumped type pellet rifle. Shoot, break, load, close, shoot, repeat. So we went back up the field towards the garden looking for squirrels. My cousin and I are roughly the same age. We get up there, the squirrels are tearing around. My grandfather hands the gun to my cousin who manages to miss even the tree they were climbing on. But he did scare em away. It has always bothered me that I wasn't given the shot first. But writing this makes me wonder if my grandfather did that deliberately. It certainly would be a positive way to turn the situation. Did he not want me to kill the squirrels that day? Was that the whole point? Some times I think it was because I was carrying the gun wrong at one point. Yes, it was unloaded but I had the barrel not quite pointed down to the ground enough, and that got a reaction and a scolding.

I will never know what he thought or why he did the things he did that left such a huge impression on me.

But the loss of the influence of his generation seems to already be eroding our culture.

Heddwch
G