When my younger son was in high school he wrote an essay entitled, The American Dream is Dead.
This was before Trump. However, it was already evident that he and his brother might not be able to afford a home without substantial help from us. It was also clear that a college degree might not be the ticket it once was. Not only that, but the climate crisis was accelerating with no apparent political will to do with anything about it.
The American dream was always conditioned on white privilege, on inherited wealth, on the color of one’s skin, on where one was born — I’m saying the same thing over and over again, aren’t I?
Still, I think we can agree that we used to live in a country with a thriving middle class where at least some offspring could reasonably expect to do better than their parents economically, could rationally anticipate that they might live longer than their parents, and could expect without resorting to fantasy that they would have a healthy environment to pass on to their kids.
I grew up in the white suburbs in the 60’s and 70’s — a member of the Jones generation (tail-end Boomer with a lot in common with Gen X). Both of my parents were first generation college-goers. Both of them, through hard work and decent educations (and white privilege) surpassed their parents by almost any measure you can devise (except longevity — a story for another time). That I would go to college was baked in. My degree in English (with a focus on medieval literature, of all practical things) garnered me a professional job in radio. That’s what we expected. That’s what we got.
Now? My boys were alive on 9/11. They watched us worry our way through the financial meltdown of 2008. They saw how we had to remortgage the house to afford college. More recently, they’ve experienced (up close) wildfires and drought. Even though my older son makes more money than I did as a first year associate at a swanky downtown law firm in the 90’s, he can’t afford to buy a home. The other son is finishing up his degree in communications and worries how many vocational avenues will be foreclosed by AI.
All of this to say, The Moonwalkers, movingly loud, visually gorgeous, and packed with information was hair-raising and inspiring and made me deeply sad.
I was riven with a painful nostalgia watching a country celebrate the moon landing. I teared up thinking of all the expertise that came together to make such a seemingly impossible feat possible. You couldn’t help but wonder if such a mission would be feasible today. With the GOP’s wanton expulsion of expertise in every scientific field, I’m doubtful. In fact, I’m not sure we can still accurately forecast the weather, for Christ’s sake.
At one point my husband pointed to the glowing exit sign on one of the surround-screens and quipped, “That’s how you know it was fake.” A perfect joke.
Let’s end on an upbeat note, shall we?
It turns out that Tom Hanks, a year older than us, was a real space aficionado as a kid. His recollections added a personal dimension to our shared history — like the time he tried to simulate being in space by grabbing a couple of bricks, arranging the garden hose so he could breathe through it, and sinking to the bottom of their 3-foot above-ground pool. He recounted his devoted position in front of the TV again and again. We could relate.
So much to remember! Those clunky-looking TV’s. How viewing was a shared experience. The trust we had in Walter Cronkite and John F. Kennedy, voices so familiar to those of us of a certain age.
We plan to rewatch Apollo 13 sometime soon.
Just the clips had me in tears. I’m half step older that you and Hank; a full boomer. My space obsession began with the launch of Sputnik. Lying on the neighbors porch roof, October 1957, watching that spark amble across the night sky. I preferred the “fellow traveler” translation to Sputnik. I too was prepared to die of floating kidneys rather than leave the TV when Apollo left the earth. So much here to unpack and consider. Thank you.
What a memory! A few years one way or the other makes a big difference in recalling certain events, doesn’t it?
I feel for kids today. They are disillusioned before even getting their hands dirty. For those of us born in the late 50s and 60s we were fed the belief that if we worked like dogs, paid our dues, and saved our pennies we could have it all. Some did it on their own. Some married and\or divorced well. Some rely on bankruptcy benefits. But for most of us, it was never easy, a lifelong struggle to keep our heads above water. But “kids today”, so many didn’t even get to buy the false hope of making it. And that 100k college loan will never go away… No wonder they refuse to kill themselves in a 9 to 5’er. Quiet quitting is a term they own. I wonder if it’s just here or in Europe too? I think it’s different in Asia? It’s not looking like it’s getting better here anytime soon. Ugh.
Well said, Ginny. I’m not surprised that the birth rate is down — fairly rational to view the future as perhaps unsustainable.
Sadly, the room of nerds erupting in cheers reminds of the thrill of an accurate military drone strike. Science can be evil
True true. Ive seen those clips too.
But I’d like to know how we’ll combat avian flu if it jumps to human to human transmission without it.
Hi, Dee. I remember sitting in my Grandma’s lap on the porch watching for Sputnik when I was three years old in 1957. She made it calming and exciting at the same time.
In the summer of 1969, my parents and I (16 y/o) were on a street corner in Paris, where TVs were installed on the street corners just for this event, watching the moon landing. So many people! Such excitement! People from all over the world sharing this dream.
By the time I started college, at 17, our USA pride, along with our international friendly associations, seemed to begin its slide.
Now, I can’t fathom what my kindergartener granddaughter is supposed to learn in the years to come. The teachers are now ‘old-school’, and can’t know what to teach for the future coming fast.
Well even if the then and now comparisons are disturbing, I’m enjoying these recollections. Deb remembers watching Sputnik too.
Hi, Dee. I don’t know why I’m anonymous. I’ve been here before as Laura R.
Hi Laura! Did you comment above? When I comment on most blogs these days, I sign them because I often come up anonymous. I recommend people do the same here.