Past generations were made of better stuff. My Dad sent me an email today with a story that his Mother told him about the death of her father because he was trying to save the financial future of his family:
My Mother told me this story when I was a small child. This was very personal for her, and I remember the emotion in her voice as she related it.My father's mother ended up getting a Masters Degree (rare for a woman in the early 1900s), married a minister, lead a financially poor, but happy life, and raised two sons who ended up teaching at Harvard and Berkeley.
My Mother was born in 1886 on a farm in Illinois. Several photographs have survived of this time. She, with her parents and two smaller brothers, lived in a large, attractive frame house. Photos show a horse-drawn plow working a corn field. I remind you that they would not have had automobiles, telephones, radio, or electricity and central heating in the home. A trip into town meant a ride in the one horse carriage.
During the growing season the work day for a farmer and (older) sons began at daybreak and ended at sunset. The wife and daughters canned food for the long winter months, sewed clothing, and prepared meals for the men. When winter storms came, families could be isolated for extended periods.
My story begins when my Mother was thirteen or fourteen years old (I do not remember the exact date.) It was a very harsh winter, with bitterly cold storms following in a seemingly endless procession. The roads were blocked with huge snow drifts. Without central heat, the family huddled near the cherry red kitchen stove, stoked with coal. Hot water bottles warmed the feet.
Isolated from the rest of the world, each day all anxiously hoped for an end of the storm. Grandfather would put on his warmest clothing and venture out to tend the livestock. It was essential that the cattle and horses be fed and protected from freezing. When Grandfather succumbed to the flu, the family faced a crisis. With a high temperature he became too weak to go out and the family could only pray that the storm end. It did not end, and faced with financial ruin with the loss of the livestock, Grandfather knew that he must go out.
My mother and her smaller brothers waited apprehensively while Grandmother helped her husband up and to dress as warmly as possible. He went out into the howling blizzard-- to return triumphantly. The livestock were saved!
Their relief was shattered when that night his flu turned into pneumonia and Grandfather died. With no one to tend them, the livestock also perished. It was then necessary, come spring, for Grandmother to sell the farm and to move into town.
My maternal grandmother married another farmer and they both lived long lives. My grandmother was in her 90’s when she died.
Yes, previous generations were made of "sterner stuff" than weak willed people who care more for owning a "McMansion" and a new car every year than leaving a decent world for their descendants.