Entering a new semester, I'm finding myself with the ritual of Friday nights at the American Legion in Clay, New York, for a fish fry and a pint. My grandfather, Spencer Ripley, served in the Navy during WWII in the Pacific. Although he seldom talked of his experience, it was a piece of who he was. His service allows my mother a connection to the local post. I enjoy this land of blue haired progenitors and find comfort in their presence of stories, retirement and commitment to the Greatest Generation ever.
And the beer is cheap. I can buy two beers and a white russian for less than $5. How wonderful is that?
On Friday nights, I think about the work I'm doing with my University studies, the work I did in the classroom, and the work my grandparent's generation did in the world that allowed my life to be carried out this way, today. I'm humored that many in the academic setting scorn war and military, and seem to forget that it was a young population of men and women who helped Europe save itself, ended Hitler's Eugenicist campaign, and kept the Western U.S. from Japan's desire to control the Pacific. Many of the people who are anti-military spend their days looking at theoretical research on our modern popular culture. Such work is the result of WWII, and our education is because of their strength to fight for what the American democracy is supposed to be about.
I try to make sense of the world all the time. Drinking and eating huge fish portions with those who subscribe to AARP makes me happy. In fact, I look forward to it. I feel I am joining a historical chapter that is much larger than anything my generation has ever known.
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