Are You a One Percenter?

 

At least two commercial news organizations have run a story about the current generation of seniors in the United States. They report that those of us born during a 16-year period have survived a time period that saw remarkable changes across the nation. Both* of these organizations have called seniors from this generation “the one percenters.” Here’s why. They have agreed that those who are older than 77 but younger than 94 deserve special notice. They have put end points on this generation as beginning in 1930, the beginning of the Great Depression, (although it really began in 1929) and the end point of fighting in 1946 (although World War II ended in 1945). T the two end points constitute a 16-year span of life in the U.S. They note that 99 percent of those born during this 16-year span are now dead. If you are reading this, you are one of those lucky one percenters who have survived and are willing to spend your time reading about others who are still moving.

Us one percenters share an extraordinary number of firsts that Americans can brag about if we survive the current crop of political leaders in Washington D. C. Here is a list of some noteworthy facts and firsts for American one percenters.

·       You are the smallest group of children born in America since the early 1900s.

·       You are likely the last survivors of the Great Depression and/or World War II and you share a number of life changes as a consequence of those two tumultuous events.

·       You are the last to remember ration books for gasoline, sugar and shoes plus other things that were in limited supply due to the War.

·       You were the last to have a milk box on your front steps.

·       You were the last generation to have a radio but not a television. You imagined what you heard on the radio. With no TV, you spent your time playing outdoors.

·       You may have had a single telephone in your house, and it was attached to a wall where most of the family had access to it with no privacy. You had a party line, meaning that the neighbors could listen in if they wanted.

·       There were no computers. They were called calculators or slide rules.

·       Most highways were primitive by today’s standards as there were no Interstate highways or lane divides on roads passing through your town.

·       You walked to school and shopped downtown.

·       Polio was a feared disease that seemed to prey on children.

·       You were the last generation to experience a time when and most people expected the future to be better than the past.

You grew up in the best of times. More than 99 percent of you are now retired and enjoying the benefits of changes that began with the Presidency of Franklin Roosevelt: think Social Security, FEMA, and other national plans that help common folks. Those improvements for seniors, like Social Security, are now under assault and may not be available to the next generation if the current President and his minions achieve what they want.

If you have already reached the age of 77, you have outlived 99% of all the other people in the world who were born in this 16-year period. You are a 1 percenter. Enjoy yourselves.

*The two resources I used for this blog were the Pendelton Times newspaper published in West Virginia and WRNI, a consortium of four radio stations in New Jersey. The Pendleton Times deserves special notice.

Special Group: One Percent Born Between 1930 – 1946

 

William Luther and Myra Alice Simmons were married Nov. 6, 1920. William Luther (Nov. 23, 1895 – Jan. 26, 1982) was the son of James Harvey and Polly Margaret Bowers Simmons. Myra Alice (July 13, 1897 – Jan. 26, 1956) was the daughter of Emanuel and Jemima Frances Simmons Mitchell. Their children were Leota M., Frances Margaret, Stelman Carlon, Norman Luther, Doris May, Herman Strobel and Sheldon Ona. (This piece was written by Paula Mitchell, Franklin,A W. Virginia)

History of the Pendleton News

The newspaper was founded in 1913 as an independent newspaper by West Virginia resident William McCoy. By 1921 it had a circulation of 1,715, no doubt including William and Myra Luther.

On April 17, 1924, the gasoline engine of the press at the Pendleton Times ran out of fuel. The operator, rather than waiting for the engine to cool, put gasoline into the hot tank, causing it to burst into flames. The townspeople went to their nearby reservoir for water to contain the fire, only to find the supply of water was not enough to provide the needed water pressure. Unchecked, the flames quickly spread across the downtown of Franklin, West Virginia. The rapid spread of the conflagration combined with the inadequate water supply resulted in a blaze fierce enough to provoke town officials to use dynamite to check the advance of the fire. Alas, the dynamite made things worse. By the morning, as the Associated Press put it, the town was "all but eliminated from the map".

Bill McCoy died in 2008, at 87, after a long tenure as the paper's publisher. The paper was operated by Bill's son, John McCoy, until 2022, when it was sold to Mountain Media. So far, the Pendleton Times/Mountain Media firm has avoided any other fires like the 1924 blaze.

 

 

 

Things My Mother Never Told Me

 

While I was wrapping Christmas presents this year an odd recollection came to me as I was fumbling around--it was a message from my mother offering advice, almost as clear as if she were standing beside me. “If you fold the paper this way,” she said, “you won’t use so much wrapping paper, "My oh my” she went on, "wherever did you get so much ribbon? Do you really need ribbon for every gift box? It seems to me that once you see one ribbon, you won’t even look at more when it is on every package.”

Of course, I knew what she was concerned about. Two things drove her: cost, and, in her mind at least, wasteful practices. If a foot of ribbon were used, she would question why a six-inch piece wouldn’t do just as well. Those attitudes had been driven into her psyche since she was a child.

Both my mother and father lived through the Great Depression starting in 1929. Each was born in 1917, both watched their parents struggle financially during the period when they were impressionable children, both saw and felt the effects of the financial hardship that was universal among their families and neighbors. It must have seemed to them that no one could escape what they called hard times. The solution to the problem of hard times was the same then as now: use less, reuse everything, and make do with what you have instead of buying new. One instance of that was wrapping paper for Christmas presents. In her mind, making do without new packaging and ribbons meant doing things like carefully unwrapping the decorative wrapping paper on gifts so it could be reused the following Christmas.

I didn’t realize the scope of the hardships my mother experienced until I dove into the genealogy of our family a few years ago. Her father seemed to be a proud man, concerned with appearance. This became apparent to me when he came to live with us after the death of his wife and his gradual decline in health. My mother seemed the only one of his children who had both the means and the inclination to take care of him. He was given his own bedroom in our house, and he laid claim to a comfortable chair in the living where he sat with an ashtray at his fingertips for his ever-present cigarette. He wore a dark blue wool suit every day that I can recall, including the time that he spent working in his large vegetable garden before his health prevented it.

His name was Jesse Hiester, and I learned more about him when I worked on a book about the family. Jesse was one of several Heisters that were involved in a furniture business in our small town. Jesse’s involvement in that business came to an end during the Great Depression when his boss decided to reduce Jesse’s wages from $9 dollars per week to $7. The blow was too great for Jesse and his ego and he decided to quit his job rather than suffer the ignominy of such a salary decline.

It must have been during this time that my mother recalled walking along the railroad tracks with a sack in hand to pick up and carry home whatever stray lumps of coal jostled from the coal car that bumped along behind the steam engine. Apparently, the family used the coal to advantage during the colder winter months in northeast Indiana. Another surprising find during my genealogy search was that Jesse never owned a house. He and his family lived in a single modest home for many years that was rented rather than owned. At the back of the house was an outdoor pump where all household water came from (as long as you were willing to work the handle) and further back, next to the alley, was the privy that was used by everyone who lived there. No one wasted time there during the winter months.

Living was harder during these times.