I had an energetic, but relatively safe childhood. That is, we learned early-on what not to touch and who not to be touched by. We learned that you didn’t accept a ride from someone you didn’t know, but nobody I knew was ever offered a ride by a stranger. Parents let their kids play in the yard past dusk with no adult supervision, and they didn’t seem to mind the constant screeches coming from a yardful of deliriously giddy kids. Like some animals, maybe their ears were attuned to their own kids’ particular decibel, so that’s how they knew we were okay. I miss those times. Now, when a child is out of sight for two minutes, the panic is palpable, and that’s sad. I miss the days when the only picture on a milk carton was that of Elsie the Cow.
Another security blanket for us when I was a child was that anyone older than—say—20, was my elder and should therefore be addressed respectfully as “Ma’am” or “Sir.” But that might have been a strictly Southern custom. I learned when we moved to California that some adults don’t appreciate being reminded that they are of a different generation; I can still remember the look on his face when I addressed a teacher as “Sir.” It was that and-what-planet-did-you-arrive-from glassy stare. Sure, he was wizened and grandfatherly in my youthful eyes, but he didn’t want to be reminded of it. I can’t really blame him, but to this day, even as I approach the age he was then, I tend to think of anyone significantly older as my elder. Of course, now that I’ve been a “ma’am” myself for awhile, I can better understand why that teacher didn’t feel particularly respected by the title. Still, I sometimes have to gulp down the “Yes, sir” that leaps to my tongue. We were taught as we were because back then respect for elders was the standard, and most of our elders did deserve it. That’s another standard from my youth I’m sorry to see go; it was another tradition that made us feel safe.
In fact, although we lived in a far from perfect world, it was at least on the surface a safe place. Sure, we knew that bad things happened. We learned all about war in history class, but most of us weren't made constantly aware that there were wars going on even then. Our dads had fought in France or Korea, but Viet Nam wasn’t a topic of conversation in those days. We were either innocent or ignorant, depending on your perspective. From our perspective in the fifties, we were neither; we were just living, and the world we were living in wasn’t a particularly scary place. After all, Lucy and Ricky’s quarrels led to laughter. We could be confident that Father knew best, because Jim and Margaret Anderson never quarreled at all. And the sweetness exuded by Ward and June Cleaver’s relationship almost dripped from the screen. Maybe our own parents weren’t quite like that, but TV Land was definitely a safe place where problems, such as they were, always had a 30-minute resolution. So anything was possible.
Our toys were Hula Hoops, Slinkies, and Tiny Tears dolls, none of which were ever recalled because of being a threat to our safety. We tended not to stick things in our mouths that weren’t designed for that purpose, and if we did and choked, we got a couple of sharp slaps on the back and a stern lecture from Mom once we stopped gagging and she was sure we were okay. Nobody I knew ever sued anybody or got sued. Was there more common sense back then? Was there an innate sense that we were responsible for our actions and if you did something stupid, thoughtless, or illegal you would PAY? Okay, nobody I knew ever did anything illegal, but if they had I don’t think we’d have made excuses; we’d have been appalled and embarrassed, and then, depending on the offense, we would probably have helped them pay the fine or bail.
I’m not saying that the 1950’s were really much better than the first decade of the new millennium. But illusion or not, I do believe we generally felt safer back then. Late in the sixties, things changed. An unpopular war became daily front-page news, my generation discovered LSD and marijuana and worse, and it didn’t take long for rioting to replace peaceful protest. The Beatles went from being the “lads from Liverpool” to “Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.” After that, popular music turned harsh, and the niceties of genteel society, superficial though they might have been, faded very fast into oblivion. The decade that had started with a Presidential assassination that distressed a nation ended with the first acts of terrorism, a plague that continues to distress the world. Every decade has brought more dramatic changes, and with those changes, respect for authority has gone the way of the dinosaur. Is the world a safer place now? The answer to that is obvious to anyone who isn’t in a coma.
The ‘good old days’ weren’t really all that good, but a lot of us think they were better. Maybe that’s why Lucy, Ricky, Fred, and Ethel still make a good portion of humanity laugh. It’s hard to feel threatened when you let yourself be silly. After all, there’s safety in laughter, even if only for a few minutes at a time.
© 2010
No comments:
Post a Comment