Lois Wyse: ThirdAge Insider

It was Grandparents Day at Elizabeth's school, and so I went with a happy heart. But instead of watching the children in action, we grandparents became the class lesson.

Our seventh graders were exploring their family histories. Since they now had part of their history at hand, we were asked to share memories. In a rush we began to describe the single event that first defined our young lives: World War II.

We had battle-scarred veterans in our midst, war plant workers, and some of us--young children during the war--recalled our mothers scrimping to conserve sugar, butter, and gasoline. We remembered rationing, flattening tin cans (was that the start of recycling?), and the absence of any young men in civilian clothes. We talked about V-mail, writing to servicemen overseas on paper thinner than gift wrap tissue, and the excitement when any family member, friend, or neighbor came home on leave.

It hit a nerve, just as the best-selling book by Tom Brokaw about those who came of age during World War II (The Greatest Generation, Random House, $24.95) seems to.

The experience at Lizzy's school makes me think that anyone who remembers those days owes it to his or her family to record their memories. We're a generation that remembers unity against an enemy powerful enough to win, bomb shelters, and fears of enemy subs attacking our coasts. And before we're history, we ought to share some of those stories.

As you put your memories on paper, you just may want to make a copy and send it on to me. I'll try to collect some of our best memories to pass along. So come on, readers, where were you December 7, 1941?

Now, on to this week's dilemmas....

Messy Daughters, Unhappy Divorces

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