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Faith In America by Donald Zolan
Before the second half of 20th Century America happened to her citizens, most kids who weren’t beat up too much for their choices were fairly safe and capable — able to focus their attention on the world in front of them long enough to finish a task and get something done on their own without fear of harm. . .
Even young children could be sent to run an errand, trusted not to meet an early end by a generation of parents and grandparents whose worst fear was that a youngster might actually starve to death if he didn’t learn some skills and self-reliance. And even in the cities, even during wartime, people looked out for each other’s kids . . .
Everybody knew their neighbors, anyway, at least around Havenwood. Scum didn’t stand much of a chance.
As for what happened to the nation and to the minds and morals of her people and their leaders in the decades that followed, it wasn’t television or movies or video games or computers, not guns or even the internet wars and poison food and water that turned out to be the real hidden culprit — as folks in a new awakening would come to realize.
And though the bigger story of who and why and how the money trails connected still lurked behind the scenes . . .
Suffice it to say that, when I was a child, the art of dumbing down humanity with drugs and glorifying violence to masquerade as “culture” under the guise of “human nature” and “news of the day” had not fully taken hold yet as the modus operandi to convince folks life was dangerous, so they wouldn’t look too deep.
People in places like Havenwood could still seek solace in their churches. And there was still contentment to be found in the plain, old-fashioned friendliness of small town life, and common sense in family.
That the grownups in my early youth weren’t terrorized by a constant barrage of televised bad news sandwiched between phony-baloney commercials was a godsend. The ominous newspaper headlines and spurious hawkings of must-have wares and miracle cures on the radio were bad news enough back then.
Bad News, School Shootings and “Happy Pills”. . .
But we didn’t have a TV yet. And we didn’t subscribe to the newspaper. And by 1946, the radio no longer had a war to report.
No one at my house was very interested in bad news, anyway. And except for old Miss Hickey, nobody at school cared much about it, either.
We didn’t even have school shootings when I was a kid. No student would dream of bringing a gun to school in the first place, now that the war was over, unless they needed it to shoot some supper on the way home. They could just store their guns in the principal’s gun case, next to his.
As for the day of fearing one’s child might fall prey to some counselor dispensing make-you-crazy “happy pills” to adjust their behavior if they wiggled too much or (god forbid) they thought outside the box, the idea of turning children into zombies was so far-fetched, it would have been hard to imagine even a Nazi Germany could have thought that one up. . .
Which is all to say that during those fleeting years between wars, in mid-20th Century Heartland America, life was safer for a child for awhile — especially a curious and outspoken one like me. And able to live a life less influenced by artificial style and false opinion, with plenty of worthwhile work to go around, kids enjoyed a lot more freedom in general.
And so it was, in early summer 1946, that I could wander off unfettered from our family picnic at Silver Bear Lake on a gorgeous Saturday morning, leaving my brother Timmy to fish and run wild with our stair-stepped trio of freckle-faced, farm boy cousins while the grownups played their dominoes.
And with my little belly full of fried chicken and buttery biscuits, I set out to investigate a rare and fascinating day, indeed . . .
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Excerpts from the Coming Novel HAVENWOOD TALES Beginnings
Copyright©2007, 2013 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.
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Social Commentary – WW II – Historical Fiction – Mystery Novel – American Literature Treasures
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He reminded me of a sycamore tree with his tall, lean build and sturdy limbs. His skin was white when he rolled up his sleeves to wash his hands in the wintertime. And his hair was as shiny black as a raven’s wing, only curly.
It was a time of new necessity for Man. For despite any halt to the march of evil, that war had turned humanity inside out when the white-hot specter of an atom bomb shocked and awed a pre-dawn New Mexico desert and twice carried death to Japan.
Livestock and chickens and barns and crops and bank accounts needed tending, leaving little time to ruminate about the war. And with new enterprises springing up as manufacturing shifted to producing wares and gadgets for the new Consumer Age, earning opportunities outside the home soon grew abundant for adults and young folks alike.
Havenwood Tales 
Memorial Day Memories – Inspirations from Heartland America
Posted in Inspirations, Wisdom, tagged 1940s, America, Author D.J. Houston, Freedom, Heartland America, Inspiring Stories, Mystery Novel, Social Commentary, WW II on May 26, 2014| 2 Comments »
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Mystery Novel – Social Commentary – 1940s – Inspiring Stories – Heartland America
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