REAL LIFE CALLS
[May 10th] -- Talk about a momentous month! May brings both my 50th birthday and my first grandchild, Emma Grace. Being called grandpa doesn't make me feel older, but hitting 50? That is one of "those" milestones that makes your foundations shake.
When I was a senior in high school, a fifty year-old parent would have been born in 1924, twelve years after the sinking of the Titanic and five years after the end of the first World War. A guy my age then would have suffered through the Great Depression, and fought during World War II. He would have remembered life before television, and would have opened his Sunday paper and looked at classifieds marked "White Only."
At fifty, I have seen none of that as an adult. Other than a gas crisis or two, and couple of really bad presidents (one Republican and one Democratic), my generation has lived through unprecedented good-times. I had to deal with none of the pain and world-wide panic that gripped the world for almost three decades. None of my friends died fighting a war they didn't volunteer for. I almost feel guilty at my good luck.
And what about baby Emma? She will likely live until the year 2090, maybe even longer. Will her life be more like the turbulent era that my father's generation lived through, or will her life be more like that of George Jetson, who pushed a button all day long?
I don't know. But I'm proud of my daughter Kira for the person she grew up to be, and I'm hopeful that Emma will make a difference during her time on Earth.
Like me. I made a difference by writing about a baseball team. I mean, I did make a difference, right???
Congrats on the granbaby and the 50th.
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