What Would They Think of Us Now?

This nation’s Greatest Generation must be looking down on us with absolute disgust. These were Americans who endured real sacrifice — not inconvenience, sacrifice. They lived with gas and food rationing. They went without new cars, trucks, appliances, pots, pans, or anything made of steel or aluminum because every ounce of metal went to the war effort. Their cities went dark at night under blackout orders because enemy attack was a real possibility.

And today? A war breaks out barely twelve weeks ago, and instead of pulling together like a nation with backbone, we fall apart at the seams. Gas goes up a dollar or two and suddenly half the country is in meltdown. And I’m not even talking about the people who already had full?blown TDS — they were going to scream no matter what. I’m talking about the rest of us, the people who claimed to support our country, who said they believed in unity, strength, and leadership… until the moment it required even the slightest personal discomfort.

Instead of grit, we get whining. Instead of unity, we get people shouting that the President should be replaced or impeached — not because of corruption or scandal, but because they’re irritated at the price of fuel. What happened to us? When did the cost of a gallon of gas become more important than the threat of nuclear escalation?

Rather than acting like a unified country standing behind our elected leadership in a moment of global danger, we hand our enemies a gift. We publicly tear ourselves apart, loudly and constantly — and you can bet hostile nations are watching every second of it. If I were the leader of Iran, hearing how divided Americans are, and caring nothing for my own people, I’d stall and stall and stall. Why negotiate seriously when you can just wait for Americans to sabotage their own President for you?

We’ve fallen a long way from the Greatest Generation. We’ve become the Me, Me, Me Generation, just like that Toby Keith song “I Wanna Talk About Me.” Everything is about personal comfort, personal outrage, personal inconvenience. National unity? Shared sacrifice? Forget it.

It’s shameful. And at 83, it breaks my heart to say I’m grateful I won’t live long enough to see where this ends.