My dad was born in the Bronx in the 1920's in a largely Jewish neighborhood. Yiddish was spoken more frequently there than English, yet no blowhards were calling for English to be the official Reichstongue.
America was really seen as the land of opportunity. The families were mostly poor and lacked much formal education, but my father’s generation went to college and prospered. My dad played stickball and internalized the egalitarian values around him.
The WWII military was good to my dad. He came out with furthered education and a wider exposure to American culture. It was a country that, while still practicing apartheid and freaking out about reds, saw the great value in human capital as expressed in the G.I. Bill and the Marshall Plan.
He went to work for a large corporation that took good care of its workers and gave him opportunity for growth, camaraderie, and financial welfare.
When the growing congregation of his synagogue showed signs of fossilized deference towards the wealthy and powerful, I am proud to say that my dad, entrenched in the inner workings of the place though he was, hung out with the dissidents and the hoipolloi.
Yet the years brought changes that we know all too well. His rust belt city lost jobs to places with lower wages, fewer benefits, and less worker protection. The beneficent corporation slowly turned into a profit-over-people behemoth, and by the time my dad retired there was little loyalty in either direction.
As my dad grew older the arteries of the country hardened along with its heart. First Nixonian and then Reaganite policies blazed the way for the present administration’s utter disregard for law and for the worship of wealth and power My dad began to complain more about the scoundrels running the place.
The pleasant times of the 90's were mirrored in my parents’ early retirement. They traveled, lived a comfortable life, and were happy.
But when the country lost its mind during the following decade, so did my mom, due to Alzheimer’s. Like the Democrats who could not come to grips with the ruthlessness and evil (yes, evil) of the Bush Administration, my dad could not process the extent to which the disease dissolved away the personhood of my mom. He persisted in old habits of interaction, reasoning or pleading with her, expecting both rational behavior and that she would remember what he had said. He could not adapt to someone who would not think the way rational people would think and who operated with paranoia and delusion.
It was too much for my dad. The constant stress and emotional assault (not to mention the infirmity accompanying aging) wore him down, made him unable to deal with everyday tasks. He and my mom moved to a red state to be near my sister, but my dad could no longer find companionship among the Bush-loving people around him, and he lacked the will to find those of similar mind. He came to despise those in power. When my mom finally entered an Alzheimer’s unit (way after she should have) the life had been sucked out of my dad. Things wound down over the months to where we are today.
But though the ending was sad (as are nearly all life’s endings) I can’t help but reflect on my father’s common yet uplifting American success story. He lived a good life, shared in the flowering of the American people during much of the twentieth century, and passed along his democratic/Democratic values to me (with the help of my mom).
I just hope that those born today have the same opportunities.
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