Generations Lost A Culture of Repair

Sometimes I find myself watching young people and thinking, *where did the time go?* Not in a wistful, “I’m getting old” sort of way, though that certainly plays a small part. It's more like observing an entirely different species, really – not because they are bad or wrong, mind you, but because their responses to the world just... differ so fundamentally from what I learned growing up.

Bernard and I were children in the sixties and seventies. That era imprinted on us a peculiar understanding of durability, both physical and emotional. Things broke, naturally. But the first instinct wasn't to replace them; it was to *fix* them. A lamp would flicker? You took it apart, figured out the wiring—sometimes with a butter knife, I confess—and put it back together. An appliance malfunctioned? The same process. It taught you something about cause and effect, and frankly, a quiet pride in your own competence.

I recall Phyllis remarking on my tendency to repair things rather than discard them; she called me “fixer.” A perfectly accurate description. But that habit went deeper than appliances. There was an expectation that setbacks – disappointments, failures, challenges – were simply… part of the landscape. You didn't rail against them. You assessed them, devised a plan, and kept moving. Not without feeling the sting, certainly; sadness is real. But with a conviction that you could navigate it, you *would* navigate it.

Now, I see young people facing similar difficulties, yet their immediate inclination seems to be toward… avoidance. Perhaps it's an overreaction to the pressures of our increasingly demanding world. Maybe it’s the constant barrage of curated perfection on social media – a relentless highlighting of what isn’t there, rather than a celebration of what *is*. I don’t know enough about the particular circumstances shaping their responses to truly say.

It's not that younger generations lack compassion or sensitivity; they demonstrably do not. It's simply that the language for dealing with adversity has changed. There's less room, it seems, for quiet perseverance and more space for expressing distress and seeking immediate relief – which isn’t necessarily a bad thing! But sometimes I worry about what gets lost in that shift.

Take commitments, for example. When Bernard and I were young, once you made a promise, keeping it was paramount. It wasn't just about politeness; it was about integrity. The thought of casually breaking an agreement – even a small one – felt deeply unsettling, almost… disrespectful. There was something powerful in seeing things through—planting the seed, nurturing it, watching it bloom.

I’ve been sitting with astrology more these past few years – truly *sitting* with it, not just glancing at the ephemeris when I had a spare moment. It's interesting how much emphasis contemporary astrological interpretations place on avoiding discomfort. While there is certainly wisdom in recognizing your boundaries and prioritizing self-care, there’s also something to be said for stretching yourself, facing challenges head-on, and discovering what you’re truly capable of. You learn more about the universe - and about yourself – when you're feeling a little uneasy.

Perhaps I am overly sentimental. Perhaps my view is colored by nostalgia. But I do believe that the ability to withstand discomfort, to persevere through setbacks, to fix what’s broken—these are qualities worth cultivating at any age. And while society may change, and values evolve, those fundamentals remain deeply valuable, not just for individuals but for the world as a whole.