Our generation was more united, honest, humane… and truly happy
With each passing year, I become more convinced that the world I grew up in can never be reclaimed.
I am getting older. My generation is fading away, and with it goes the spirit of unity that once made our lives genuine, meaningful, and filled with collective effort.
Nowadays, when I turn on the TV, I see the same thing: floods, damaged roads, littered streets, chaos. There are endless accusations – it’s always the government, officials, and businesspeople to blame, but never the people themselves.
I look at the young and realize – something has gone wrong. They complain, demand, protest. In our time, we just got on and did it.
We built the country with our own hands
My generation came of age in the post-war years, a time of major construction. We didn’t sit in offices writing complaints or demanding compensation. We raised the country from the ruins, creating it as best we could because we believed we were doing it not for someone else, but for us and our children.
We built roads, tunnels, and bridges. We erected factories, worked the fields, and developed a reservoir system that sustained agriculture. And we didn’t just build – we maintained everything in order.
I grew up in a village by the river. We knew that if you didn’t watch the riverbed, the spring waters might overflow and flood homes.
But no one waited for “specialists” to arrive.
In spring and autumn, the whole village gathered together. We cleared the river, removed blockages, and cut down old trees that could obstruct the water flow.
No one asked for money. No one waited for orders from “above.”
And after work, we’d lay blankets on the grass, pull out treats from our bags, and share them with each other. In the evening, someone would fetch an accordion, and the whole village would sing.
We were one big family.
Today, people have changed
Now, no one wants to take responsibility for their own life.
I see young men, strong and healthy, complaining on social media about a collapsed bridge or a burst pipe outside their window, writing to the council with no reply.
And I want to ask:
“What did you do about it yourself?”
Why didn’t you gather the neighbors, go out, clean up, reinforce, or repair? Why are you waiting for someone else to come and solve your problems?
I don’t excuse the authorities. They have their own failings – they’ve forgotten that their work isn’t just to sit in offices making promises.
But people have changed too.
Today, it’s every person for themselves.
Some make money off everything they can, selling land that fed generations, draining water from reservoirs for their gain.
And when disaster strikes, they throw up their hands: “What could we have done?”
I am proud of my generation
I know we’re called “old.” Laughed at for our habits, our resilience.
But you know what?
I am proud of how we lived.
Proud that we knew the value of work.
That we didn’t hide behind others, but solved problems ourselves.
We didn’t wait for government help – we built our lives with our own hands.
We were united. Genuine.
Honest.
Humane.
We lived, not just existed.
And we were happy.
