Wednesday, November 23, 2022

(Not So) OK, Boomer (Anymore).


Traps'RUs
HobbesianVille


In my opinion, one of the more insightful columnists writing about the passing parade in greater Lotuslandia is Jody Paterson.

A couple of weeks ago Ms. Paterson's blog came back to life and, most recently, she wrote about how her generation, which is also mine, has no stories about how bad things were in their youth.

You know, those stories about playing hockey with frozen hunks of dung and/or going to school in a shoebox.

And why is that?

Because, as Ms. Paterson points out, we who grew up on the tail end of the post-war boom actually had it really, really good back in the days of yore:

"...It struck me the other day that the Boomer generation that I'm part of just might be the first generation in Canada whose own stories will instead be of how good they had it compared to their grandkids. 

Let me tell ya, kid, back in my day we had houses for people. We didn't even have a word for homelessness, and you camped for fun, not because it was that or nothing. We burned through natural resources like there was no tomorrow. (Turns out that last part was true.) 

Back in my day, we made real money, and if we hit a bad spell, could fall back on employment insurance that actually covered most of a person's bills. We had doctors. Weather was just weather, not an ominous portent of end of days..."


I would add that we of a certain age also had a good post-secondary education available to us at a cost of almost nothing at all.*

The larger point?

There really was a concerted class levelling that went on in these here parts back in the '60's and '70's that expanded possibilities for everyone.

Which brings me to a recent piece in Jacobin by David Moscrop, whose stuff I also have a lot of time for, about how the majority of Canadians these days don't trust, essentially, anyone:

"...Beyond political and media institutions, social cohesion is also thin in Canada — and trending downward. In March, Ipsos found that “only 30% of adults say most people can be trusted against 70% who believe that you can’t be too careful dealing with people.” Once again, the data is conditioned by education and income level — those with more education and income trust one another more..."

So.

Why is that (part deux)?

Well, Mr. Moscrop, who is a young guy, thinks that in large part this is because folks today have lost or will never see any of those nice, and truly important, things that we Boomers had when we were young:

"...Polite Canadian society encourages the wringing of one’s hands about low trust. It makes for good columns and think pieces, fascinating TV and radio, and endless polls and reports. Evidently, all of this fretting is for nothing, because the arc of trust is bending toward its antithesis despite the consternation of elites. It’s not surprising. The market economy and class are rarely discussed when trust is the topic of conversation, even if everyone will skirt around the issue that plainly sits right in the middle of the room. Come on, people. It’s a class issue. It’s an economic issue. And the origin of low trust, and thus its deleterious manifestations, is a political failure by those who run government and shape the economy. The origin of low trust is decades of capitalist depredation and the thinning out of the state in such a way that working people have been left to fend for themselves in a Hobbesian state of struggle..."


I, for one, think he just might be right.


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*Longtime reader EG and I have discussed this point before...My first year as an undergraduate student cost me $540. As a result, those of us who went to school at that time could quite easily finance university with summer jobs alone or, at worst, with small student loans that didn't cripple us financially until we reached middle age or beyond (the latter was C.'s situation).


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7 comments:

Anonymous said...

I am a Boomer from the "duck and cover" generation.

We had polio and we obeyed all the medical orders given, no convoys back then.

We all had good work, my first job after graduating high school was pulling chain at Eburne sawmills. We left our door unlocked and if a neighbour borrowed something, it was returned with a gift of freshly baked cookies or a pie.

We helped people and took pride in helping. Christmas was a magical time as everyone took time to buy what they thought people wanted, not to increase Toys our Us's profit margins.

Black Friday was a killer fog and truly the past was a foreign country and we did things much differently.

It was the best of times, but it could also be the worst of times.

today I am a foreigner in a foreign land, where criminal violence has been so common place that we are no longer shocked.

At times I yearn for the simpler times, with real silver money and real penny candy. it was an age of what must be done was done.

Danneau said...

I also spent tense moments under a desk in Mr. Seidler's class in October, 1962, and grew up with a pack of brothers and a sister in what might look a lot like poverty because of some decisions that my folks made about the practice of architecture and the living of life. I had mud and fields, and a vivid imagination, a good thing, as toys were on the scarce side. But there were always books on the shelves and trips to the library were pretty frequent. For all the penury (never food, nor a modicum of clothing, nor shelter, nor loving parenting, there was something in the air that persisted right through my university days ($457 in year one, $462 at the end, until they refunded the $5 pool fund), that being a sense that, whatever the circumstances, the future was full of possibilities, and anyone who cared to could see a path to a life of material security and rich intellectual and cultural phenomena by working on a plan to get from here to there: hope and promise may have been the biggest gift, and, realistically, the lack thereof is the legacy of the whiplash of successive reactionary régimes with roots in 1964 and the full realization in 1980.

Jody Paterson said...

Aww, thanks! I always appreciate an endorsement from you, what with you being a writer of insight, knowledge and much thoughtfulness. And it feels great to be back to my blog after being sidelined by too much work that tapped off my creative energy for other good uses, but left me without any for my own writing.

RossK said...

Anon-At-TheTop and Danneau--

Just missed the duck and cover and managed to just miss polio due to the routine nature of getting the vaccine...We tail enders really did have it good.

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JP!

Ya, well, you and your partner have been out and about doing some pretty exciting things out in the wider world for the last while...Good thing writing is like riding a bike (or some such thing).

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Eleanor Gregory said...

When you write something that reminds me of the contrast between how much it cost to live and go to university in my and your time (okay, I'll admit you are a few years younger than I am) and how much it costs today, I revisit my sadness for today's generation.

RossK said...

EG--

Moi aussi.


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Anonymous said...

Ah, yes polio. The hisss clunk clank of the iron lung - those movies shown to grade 1's and 2's in 61 and 62 have left a lasting nightmare.

Even though there was a vaccine and we were inoculated, many were not and the sight of children in leg braces have lasting memories.

As for duck and cover, the wailing air-raid siren and those open trucks to take us to Steveston to be "evacuated by sea" also left me with a sense of oblivion.

But those long trips to Chilliwack (3 hours from Richmond back then) to pick cherries, with almost a "John Constable" landscape with weeping willows spreading over long ditches, with bulrushes waving in the wind, truly made me feel we were in heaven.

Our house on the peat was home and not some show case advert, where one visited and not stay. The smell of a cedar fire in the fireplace on a cold winters morning, gave the air of welcome, laughter and good times and always a mug of Coco to further warm our hearts.

We will never see those days again and have been privileged to live in the time.