Awhile back, I was seated comfortably on my couch watching a really interesting show on the history channel when one of my sons suddenly strolled into the room and sat down beside me.
“So, what boring thing are you watching on television tonight?” he asked me with indifference.
“It happens to be an extremely well-made documentary about V-E Day,” I mumbled.
“Someone made a documentary about V-D Day?” he asked, smiling and shaking his head.
“Not V-D Day, you dingbat,” I said. “V-E Day!”
“Oh, sorry. What’s that?”
“It stands for Victory in Europe,” I explained.
“The end of another stupid war, huh?”
“World War II,” I answered.
“Boring,” he said as he jumped up and headed back to his video games.
“But this is history!” I yelled out after him.
“Then that makes it hecka-boring!” he shouted back before disappearing into his room.
As I turned my attention back to the television screen, a politician was making a speech at a very well-kept French cemetery and among other things he said, “Today we, the sons and daughters of their sacrifice, say: Thank you, and well done.” Then the scene turned to 1945 and the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, where the victors of World War II were dancing for joy knowing that Hitler’s Nazi regime had finally surrendered in ruin. Everyone seemed to be overwhelmed by joy and American GI’s were kissing French girls and the French and American national flags were being waved proudly everywhere you looked.
“Boy, wouldn’t it have been really great to have been alive on V-E Day?” I asked my wife, who had replaced my son on the couch.
“Oh, I can think of much better times to have been alive than that” she said matter-of-factly.
“You’ve got to be kidding?” I said with surprise. “America has never been more powerful, both militarily and economically. Plus, we had just proved that democracies could triumph over fascists and totalitarians. We were the most admired nation on earth, and we even believed in our politicians.”
“But millions of people had just been killed,” she said, “and just think of all the atrocities that had gone on throughout that war, not to mention that most of the people in Europe were homeless and hungry.”
“Okay,” I said, “then name me one single time in American history when it would have been better to be alive.”
“Well, let’s see,” she said, “how about back in the middle of the last century?”
“You mean during the Civil War?” I asked.
“Yeah, more or less.”
“Why?” I asked, thinking that she was probably going to make a good case for the fact that the Civil War was one of the defining moments in American history, when we went from an agricultural to an industrial nation, and finally turned away forever from the awful institution of slavery.
“Because I think it would have been really great fun to be one of those Southern belles,” she said.
“What?” I asked.
“I would have definitely loved to have worn some of those colorful poofy skirts and big fancy bonnets.”
“What in the world are you talking about?” I demanded.
“You’ve seen `Gone with The Wind’, haven’t you?”
“Of course, I’ve seen `Gone With The Wind’, but I’m talking about great times in American history to be alive, not about Scarlett O’Hara and her poofy skirts and fancy bonnets.”
“Well,” she said with conviction, “you asked me, and that’s when I would have liked to have been alive.”
“Hey,” interrupted my daughter, who had wandered into the room, “what are you talking about?”
“Your dad just wanted to know what period in American history I would have liked to have been alive and I told him back when women got to wear all those wonderful Southern belle dresses and bonnets.”
“Well,” said my daughter without hesitation, “put me down for the Roaring 20s.”
“But why?” I asked, sensing that I was quickly losing control of the direction of the conversation.
“Because everyone had lots of money and it was one big party,” answered my daughter. “Plus, I really love jazz music and I think I would have made a great flapper. I really like the clothes they wore back then, too, especially the short skirts.”
In frustration, as my wife and daughter began to discuss in greater detail what flappers wore in the 1920s, I said, “You know, the next thing you two will be telling me is that you would have even loved to be alive back in the Middle Ages if you could have just been able to wear some of those fancy dresses the well-off wives of noblemen got to strut around in.”
“Nope,” said my daughter, shaking her head. “You can definitely count me out when it comes to being alive during the Middle Ages.”
“How come?” I asked with interest.
“No hot showers, no deodorant, no hair conditioner,” came the reply.
“And no toilets that flushed, either,” quickly added my wife.