Time magazine ran a feature on the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 terrorists attacks. Grace, my Darling Daughter, noted it sitting on the kitchen table and commented something along the lines of "Mom, there are kids that don't have any memory of this day. They weren't even born yet. That seems so strange." My response, "Yes. It's like Pearl Harbor to my generation."
She's becoming cognizant that there are generations following us who will know nothing of what we experienced growing up.
The other day we were talking about movies. I mentioned to her that she should go see The Help (and/or read the book), which I can attest was a very fine book/movie. The conversation led to her observing that she forgot I was alive and kicking during the civil rights era. This led to me saying, "Yes, I am old."
But it also gave me a chance to talk a little about that time, to tell her about some of the things I was involved in with regard to civil rights. I was still pretty young during the height of the riots, but could talk about my adventures working behind the scene at an NAACP telethon or posing as an interested home buyer to determine if discrimination was going on, about busing. Had I thought I could sustain her attention longer, I would have also sung, "I Am Woman, Watch Me Roar." But I moved on and drew the comparison to what she sees/hears about efforts on behalf of GLBT. She totally gets that.
I'm left thinking that history books are a good thing because I could just try and fill my DD's head with all kinds of info about things she never experienced but there just isn't going to be room. The world is busy filling her head with tomorrow's history.
Sadly, much of it sounds the same.