When I was a child growing up in the late fifties and sixties, I thought adults knew everything. In fact, I looked forward to the day when I would be an adult and know everything too. My parents gave me the rules and I followed them, usually no questions asked. My friends and I had a lot of freedom to go the playground, swing on vines across the creek, and fly kites in the field behind our houses, but when my dad whistled,I immediately responded.
My parents could do everything. My dad was an expert at gardening, fishing, and hunting. He and his friends even built a wooden fishing boat in our back yard. My mom owned a successful business, taught Sunday School, dressed nicely, and was well liked by everyone. They let me know early on that they expected me to be respectful, do my best in school, and graduate from college. It seemed if I did those things, my success was assured. So I did those things. In fact, I did my best to excel in all areas.
We were faithful members of a nearby church and if the doors were open, I was there. There was church and Sunday School on Sunday, weekday church school on Wednesday, vacation Bible School in the summer, and catechism classes when I was 12 and 13. School was easy for me even though I said I hated it! I lived for holidays and summer vacation. Summer meant swimming, fishing, and long days of bike riding, playing at the park, and hide and seek after dark. In retrospect, mine was an unbelievably blessed childhood. No wonder I thought adults knew everything. They made sure my life was safe and sound.
My life felt perfect in spite of the Cuban missile crisis, which I knew about from over-hearing my parents' conversations, the 7 O'clock news, and because we had Civil Defense sirens and drills at school. It was perfect in spite of the assassinations of JFK, MLK, and RFK. To me, these were isolated events caused by crazy individuals. Even though they were sad events, they did not affect my safety and security.
My life was perfect until I was almost 13. I distinctly remember being out of school for the summer when the Six Day War in Israel started. With both of my parents working, I was free to watch TV as long as my chores were done. So I ironed clothes and watched this historic war unfold. Prime Minister Golda Meir inspired me. Israel's severe underdog status frightened me. Their miraculous victory delighted me.
After this, I saw Israel as a modern day country with heroic people, not just some distant place and time to read about in the Bible. We read "The Diary of Anne Frank" in 8th grade. Then I discovered Leon Uris and read "Exodus" and "QB VII." How could people treat other people this way? Many of the adults in these books certainly didn't know everything. I was relieved that this horrible time was past and good had defeated evil once again.
I often quote words my dad told me. When I talked to him about the things I was reading in books, magazines and newspapers, his response was always, "Don't believe everything you read and only half of what you see." He and I would debate current events like Kent State and the Vietnam War protests. He was a veteran of WWII and served in France and Germany in 1945 and 1946. We watched war movies together and he shared his views and vast love of history with me. I was young and idealistic, not wanting to believe that the world was not safe and sound. In spite of the Cold War with the USSR and the ongoing Vietnam War, I still felt safe and secure in the United States of America, even if her adults did not actually know everything.
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