by Forrest Williams
Everyone is familiar with the disapproval and disdain of elder peers, as they scrutinize the younger, subsequent generations.
One of my 88-year-old grandfathers lives with us, and he is more than happy to express his disgust at any and all of my actions, as well as those of my younger brother.
He often calls us lazy and sometimes says that, in all likelihood, we will amount to nothing.
There is no doubt that he resides on the extreme end of the spectrum, as far as his opinions are concerned; but he does, in a way, have room to talk.
He grew up in the Depression-era and, to help support his family, dropped out of school in the 8th grade.
Then, he raised five successful children, while simultaneously working six days a week, every week, through his late seventies.
Until my recent graduation, my brother and I were full-time college students, who would both return home to work forty-hour weeks during summer.
In my grandfather’s eyes, that’s not impressive. And I suppose I really don’t have the right to question someone who has self-expressly walked ten miles to school in the snow on an uphill slant both ways.
However entertaining it is to joke about old curmudgeons, I’ve noticed that a lot of older people have had to work as hard as my grandfather throughout their lives. Most would be justified in saying that their grandchildren are lazy.
In college, I saw a staggering number of kids who were raised in middle-class households and whose parents didn’t make them do anything growing up. I have friends who have never had a job, let alone some crappy job making minimum wage.
These are the kids who can call home when they need their checking accounts refilled, and who grow indignant if their requests aren’t fulfilled in a timely manner.
The sense of entitlement among many members of my generation is sickening and very real. Older people always talk about kids these days “not understanding the value of a dollar,” but I find it true in many cases.
Depression-era life, itself, taught many lessons. Today, the ease of living enjoyed by many, forces a bigger role on parents, when it comes to instilling values.
When children talk about wanting that $350 PlayStation 4, inform them that they can have it after they work a full forty hours at minimum wage. Depending on the amount of taxes withheld—another of life’s harsh realities—they should be able to make the purchase themselves and hopefully will appreciate the work involved in acquiring it.
It may seem a cruel method of parenting for those who have the resources to provide such things to their children on a whim, but think of the value lessons that are otherwise lost.
A sense of entitlement and lack of ambition seem to have their consequences. Many have noticed that much of the United States is rather rotund (My college-and-younger age group not excluded).
The news is filled with people who are concerned about the obesity epidemic. They want to ban sodas in cafeterias and increase the taxes on junk food.
How did this become a sudden problem? Coca-Cola was founded in 1886, and it’s a fact that baked goods weren’t invented in the last fifty years.
Take a look online at the Center for Disease Control’s Obesity Epidemic maps, and you’ll see the U.S. obesity epidemic became widespread beginning in the 1990s.
As a cultural reference point, the Nintendo Gameboy was released in 1989; and Tim Berners-Lee’s network-based implementation of the hypertext concept, which allowed for widespread public access to the internet, happened in the same year.
I’m certain that a lot of obese Americans have unlimited access to the internet and their video game consoles while spending almost no time on physical self-improvement. After all, why spend hours doing aerobic exercises, when the instant gratification of Facebook and a bag of chips are ten feet away?
You get the point: we’re seeing a generation of people who have had to do very little in exchange for a lot. It’s important to stay grounded in a world where the demand for instant gratification is rapidly overtaking the willingness to suffer the often long, thankless hours, weeks, months, and years required to improve ourselves and our society over time.