Aging: The Silent Generation
The years teach much which the days never knew.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
Stanley Sime passed away at the age of 90, his obituary noted he loved growing flowers and vegetables and sharing them with others. He was also involved in Habitat for Humanity and enjoyed spending time in his woodworking shop.
I first knew Stanley as the man who drove the BIG yellow school bus past my home each night after delivering the children safely to their mothers. He never failed to greet me with a smile and wave as the empty bus rattled by.
I recall thinking at the time how special it was that this man with such a responsible job (driving the BIG yellow bus) would make the effort to wave to me—a small kid playing on the sidewalk…I looked forward to his gesture each afternoon, and even anticipated it; as if somehow this made me more important.
Kris’s Father
Years later I would get to know Stanley as the father of Kris; a close friend and teammate. Mr. Sime was among the faithful in the stands and on the sideline—rain or shine, he’d be there to cheer us on. His presence would always inspire me to play more intently and give an extra effort.
As time passed and we reached the age of driving, Mr. Sime’s cherry red Jeep Cherokee became an object of desire—and occasionally, our passport to a night of freedom. The vehicle, like the small modest home he built and the manicured yard, was impeccably tidy.
My conversations with Kris’s father were limited and narrowly focused around athletics. He was not a gregarious man as I recall, preferring to stand back, observe, and to listen.
Over time as I matured into a young man, I witnessed his Friar Tuck hair go from brown to silver-gray; seemingly overnight.
Mr. Sime the Solider
Never once did Mr. Sime (a native of South Dakota) mention he was in the U.S. Army and in 1942 served in Tunisia, Sicily, Normandy, Northern France, Rhineland, Ardennes, Central Europe—nor did he ever let on that while fighting in the Mediterranean theater in 1943 he was wounded and awarded the Purple Heart.
Perhaps this is why his generation is called the “Silent Generation,” he never shared a story, an experience, or boasted about foreign travel…I found out only recently from his son Kris, that his dad seldom talked about his military experiences with family; wishing to spare them the horrors of war.
It’s too late to thank Stanley for his service, or for showing up to our games, or for letting us borrow his Jeep Cherokee—or for making me feel important as a child.
His obituary taught me that he was a war hero before he was a school bus driver, and reminded me how fortunate I was to know him.
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4 Comments for this entry
Patrick Roden PhD
Art, this is beautiful…
Thanks,
Patrick
Jacqueline
I am currently writing an article on aging. I am also witnessing my 81 year old father slip into his elderly years. It can be painful at best to watch this great man become overwhelmed by the TV remote. Okay, let’s be honest, at 46 years old I can become overwhelmed by the TV remote!
Art, your words are right on. And I, as you, find it extraordinarily difficult to criticize my father and the men of his generation in any way. However, we as a society are not prepared for elderliness – thiers or ours. I wholeheartedly believe that the extraordinary modesty of their generation is to be admired, but is also to be unveiled – just a little bit. Just enough for my generation and the generations to follow to be aware of why they should vote, fight and be well read. And to know just what is behind the ability to purchase a wii or an ipod or an ipad. This is called freedom and it was never free. The “silent generation” does need to share a bit more with us so the price they paid is appreciated and never paid again.
Art
The “silent generation” is not one I would dare to criticize for their silence. Perhaps they remain silent because they would rather not relive those horrible memories of what they did so that others would not have to. Unfortunately, they may be undoing their work by maintaining their silence. They know freedom isn’t free; they have seen evil, tyranny, privation and permanent loss. Their sacrifices allow those who live in the freedom they purchased for us to foolishly speculate that such things do not exist. Today we squander what they purchased at such a steep price for the pursuit of foolish and irrelevant minutia that only the idle and ignorant value. Would they have given so much if they knew it would be so unappreciated? If they can be faulted (and who would dare ask more of them?), it would be for not ensuring that subsequent generations understood that what we have came at a price. “…Their [American soldiers] story is known to all of you; it is the story of the American man-at-arms. My estimate of him was formed on the battlefield many, many years ago, and has never changed. I regarded him then as I regard him now – as one of the world’s noblest figures, not only as one of the finest military characters but also as one of the most stainless. His name and fame are the birthright of every American citizen. In his youth and strength, his love and loyalty he gave – all that mortality can give. He needs no eulogy from me or from any other man. He has written his own history and written it in red on his enemy’s breast. But when I think of his patience under adversity, of his courage under fire, and of his modesty in victory, I am filled with an emotion of admiration I cannot put into words. He belongs to history as furnishing one of the greatest examples of successful patriotism; he belongs to posterity as the instructor of future generations in the principles of liberty and freedom; he belongs to the present, to us, by his virtues and by his achievements. In 20 campaigns, on a hundred battlefields, around a thousand campfires, I have witnessed that enduring fortitude, that patriotic self-abnegation, and that invincible determination which have carved his statue in the hearts of his people. From one end of the world to the other he has drained deep the chalice of courage..”-Douglas McArthur, May 12th 1962 at West Point.