Our Generation Was More Connected, Honest, Human… and Truly Happy
With each passing year, I find myself increasingly convinced that the world I grew up in has vanished beyond recall.
I am aging. My generation is fading away, and with it, the spirit of unity that once brought purpose and collective effort to our lives.
Now, I turn on the TV and see the same things repeatedly: floods, damaged roads, litter on the streets, chaos. Endless blame is cast—it’s always the government, officials, businesspeople at fault, but never the individuals.
I look at the young and sense that something has gone awry. They complain, demand, and protest. In our time, we simply took action.
We Built Our Country with Our Own Hands
My generation belonged to the post-war years, a time of great constructions. We didn’t sit in offices, write grievances, or demand compensation. We lifted the country from the ruins, creating it as best we could because we believed we were doing this for ourselves and our children.
We built roads, tunnels, and bridges. We erected factories, worked in the fields, and established reservoirs that sustained agriculture. And we didn’t just build—we also maintained everything.
I grew up in a village by the river. We knew that if we didn’t attend to the riverbed, the spring waters might overflow and flood our homes.
But no one waited for “experts” to arrive.
In spring and autumn, the entire village gathered. We cleared the riverbed, removed blockages, and cut down old trees that could impede the water flow.
No one demanded money. No one awaited orders “from above.”
And after the work was done, we laid blankets on the grass, pulled out food from bags, and shared with one another. In the evening, someone would bring an accordion, and the whole village would sing.
We were one family.
People Are Different Today
Now, no one seems willing to take responsibility for their lives.
I see young men, strong and healthy, complaining online about a collapsed bridge or a burst pipe outside their window, writing letters to the council and hearing nothing in return.
And I want to ask:
“What have you done about it?”
Why haven’t you gathered your neighbors, gone out, cleaned up, strengthened, repaired? Why are you waiting for someone else to come and solve your problems?
I don’t excuse the authorities. They have plenty of faults—they’ve forgotten that their job isn’t just to sit in offices and make promises.
But people have changed too.
Today, everyone looks out for themselves.
Some make money off anything they can, sell land that sustained generations, drain water from reservoirs for their own gain.
And when disaster strikes, they just shrug: “What could we have done?”
I Am Proud of My Generation
I know we’re called “old.” I know they laugh at our habits, our fortitude.
But you know what?
I’m proud of the way we lived.
Proud that we understood what hard work meant.
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.
Human.
We lived, not merely existed.
And we were happy.
