"...time changes everything..." -- Tommy Duncan

 Yesterday I attended a local memorial service for the end of World War Two in Europe. May 8th 1945 marked the end of the Nazis with the signing of an unconditional surrender in Reims (where we will visit later this month) and what eventually became the rebuilding of war-ravaged Europe under the Marshall Plan.

The date is only nominally celebrated in the US, as is the date of the Japanese formal surrender (Sept 2nd), largely because the US mainland was never invaded or occupied. We pay more attention to Pearl Harbor and D-Day. But you can bet May 8th is hyper Big Shit from Moscow to London.

Anyway....

All of that got me to thinking about the huge differences between my g-g-generation and that of my parents. But while generational differences have always existed, there are things that also connect us. In Texas, for instance, it's that Bob Wills swing from the 1930s and '40s. My mom liked Chuck Berry. Music, cuisine, holidays and ethnic traditions are only a few of the things that can serve to unite.

I got to thinking, though, about the impact of social media. For the most part, Facebook is the only place I participate. I dumped Twitter long ago and Instagram seems a reach too far. I know it's considered a platform for the aging, but Facebook is where I can find friends and family and it's enough so I won't apologize. But that bridge is now unique in our history, no matter which platform(s) you choose.

I wonder how my impressions would have changed had the same technology been available to me and to my parents, say, starting in about 1968. What about if I had been able to see my parents' random photos and thoughts and whatever they decided to post, as my kids (and, hell, grandkids) could/can see mine in real time?

My dad, on business trip to San Antonio...

(photo of whiskey in a glass in hotel room) "Mexican food with clients tonight. Boring af but gotta do it. Catching Gunsmoke before crashing. Gaawwwwd...."

My mom, after doctor visit in 2006...

"Doc says I have colon cancer. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Now what?"

What about their impressions and my reactions? Of course, they were of a generation that just didn't discuss certain things. While I could go to them and ask pretty much anything and expect an honest answer, some of those answers would have been unpleasant and/or borne of learned prejudices. What if I tried to say I was gay or trans? What would have been their reaction to my political posts? Or mine to theirs (my mother was a particularly hard-core right-winger). Or calling out hypocrisy (a hawk on the Vietnam War until her boy neared draft age, then looking at options for that Canadian lifestyle)?

There are a few things I don't share on social media, but it's a short list. My kids can and do see what I am saying and, if they agree or not, they know how I feel daily. And it's a two-way street. None of my three are shy.

I published my first newspaper article when I was a senior in high school in the Dallas Morning News, so it was clear from early on I wanted to write about, well, something. Before I went to Europe in 1972, my mom bought me a journal. I actually kept it, filling it almost daily with my impressions about how some of my traveling companions were dicks and which girl had a nice ass and how I ducked into a bar to guzzle wine and listen to the jukebox while shooting pool and smoking cigarettes.

What she had expected was to see a journal filled with her precious boy's wide-eyed wonder at the Eiffel Tower, the Roman ruins and Big Ben. She picked it up and read it (without asking me) and was horrified. Having social media would have pretty much prevented a lot of that but, well...

"...the dark clouds are gone and there's blue skies again..."