Every ten years or so a new generation comes along.
As one generation reaches childhood, the next is being born, and the previous one are teens or young adults.
Each generation thinks they know more, or they can do better than the generations before.
Every previous generation looks at those who follow and invariably says, “God help us in the future.”
I was born in England in the mid 1930s; in the middle of the Great Depression. By the time I reached my childhood and was old enough to be conscious of my surroundings, I found myself in the middle of a World War.
I had a father, my mother told me so, but I didn’t remember him; he had left in 1939, within days of the war starting. Apparently his last words as he left were, “It’s just a scare, I’ll be home in a couple of weeks.”
He was gone almost five years, came home briefly in 1944, and then was gone again until the war ended.
I didn’t really understand what to be in a war meant. I knew my father was fighting in the war, fighting the Germans; (Whoever they were.) but knew no reason for it, or for that matter even considered a reason.
I only knew what my mother told me, and what the other kids at school told me. Not that they really knew any more than I did, just what their mothers told them.
I remember the American soldiers coming over prior to the Normandy Invasion in 1944. They seemed like adults to me, but looking back they were just teens; only one generation before me. Happy, laughing, goofing around as teens will do.
This generation, often referred to as the “Greatest Generation,” born just ten years before me; little more than kids themselves, were actually fighting in the war.
Handing out candy to kids like my friends and me in the early part of 1944, then dying on the beaches of Normandy in their thousands, a short time later.
The generation after me was just now being born in the mid 1940s; they would reach their teen years in the 1960s and become the generation that protested war.
Did that generation know more about war than I did? When I was a teen, WWII was only a few short years past, but with its implications never fully understood, it was quickly forgotten.
I was part of the “In Between” generation, I reached my teen years in the 1950s. I didn’t have to fight in a war, and I missed out on all the excesses of the 1960s. I’m not sure if there were teen cultures before us, but there certainly have been every generation since.
We were the first after WWII; we were known as "Teddy Boys." Wearing clothes fashioned after the styles of the "Edwardian" era. (The early 1900s.) In the picture at the top I was eighteen years old; the shorter of the two, on the right.
Teens generally dress and all follow the same trends as their peers, and strangely they do it in order to be different; in actuality the generations that follow the previous are not drastically different.
We all fuck up along the way; some of us have a few more successes than failures, but does anything really change?
Does our lot get any better? History repeats itself, and each time the price goes up. We are still fighting wars; we in the middle of a recession, which is another name for a depression, which is where I came in