The sad generation
The other day I was talking with a friend about the differences between generations. And we figured out we can divide them into:
-
the golden generation—people who have almost disappeared from the face of the earth, people who used to greet ladies on the street or give up their seat on the tram, people who wore hats and went to balls, those people who didn’t swear and commanded respect through kindness. In my mind, this generation is embodied by my grandfather Tati, who is no longer with us;
-
the sacrificed generation - those who were born right after the Second World War, who got to experience a little of the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, but for whom communism ultimately crushed all their ideals in the early ’80s. They are the gray people. They are our parents. They are the ones whose eyes smile sadly;
-
our generation - we were lucky enough to be born in the ’70s and not have our brains ruined from an early age by too much time spent in front of the TV or the computer. We are nostalgic, we still enjoy Tom and Jerry cartoons and we read at least a few dozen books by the time we finished high school;
-
the messenger generation - I couldn’t find a better name although it seems it is already widely accepted. It’s the generation of those who don’t know how to write properly in Romanian, they are the ones who aren’t capable of stringing two coherent sentences together even in face-to-face communication, let alone in writing, the generation that suffers from a phobia of books, but excels at Counter Strike, like.
Naturally, in every category there are also exceptions. I was surprised to meet older people who annoyed me, as well as brilliant teenagers…
We had already finished lunch after going through this list and were quietly waiting for dessert, when my friend told me a funny story related to this last generation. Several friends went to see the movie Troy, including Victor (fictitious name), who was 18 at the time. Nobody really commented on the movie until the part where the Trojan horse was left on the beach, at which point Victor exclaimed out loud: “I bet it’s a trap and there are soldiers hidden inside the horse!”.
The whole theater burst into laughter, everyone was clutching their sides, only Victor looked around puzzled, asking: “Come on, wasn’t I right?!”…
Comentarii din vechiul blog
Apartin“generatiei sacrificate”,a carei viata din fericire,nu a fost numai gri.Am avut si noi bucuriile noastre,desi traiam cu sentimentul vinovatiei de a le fi furat de undeva din cauza ca ne erau interzise.Ne-am bucurat de o educatie sanatoasa si dac-ar fi sa fiu din nou adolescenta,mi-ar placea sa am mintea pe care o am acum.Generatia messenger ma ingrijoreaza,dar nu mai sta in puterea mea sa o educ.
ce perfect ai impartit generatiile, asa este! totusi eu ma gindesc, ca cea mai sacrificata a fost generatia parintilor nostri, nascuti in timpul primulul razboi mondial, tineri in al doilea , impovarati de familii imediat dupa 23 august si saraci si tristi in vremea odiosului! mi se rupe inima cind ma ginesc, o generatie fara bucurii, fara garania ca au ce pune pe masa a doua zi! nu e drept ce se intimpla. Si ca sa fie tabloul trist de tot, greu ati avut si generatia voastra, la o virsta la care in crestere fiind, sa fie o problema sa gasesti o sticla de lapte! nu stiu , cum e acum si cit de multumita e generatia voastra cu noile schimbari.Adica atita libertate si democratie!!
Ce trist sa-mi dau seama ca apartin unei generatii triste. Dar ce veselie ar fi putut fi in sufletul unui copil manipulat de pe la 3-4 ani, deci din gradinita, pe ideea ca poporul sovietic e marele popor eliberator iar salvarea Romaniei vine de la Stalin (“Stalin si poporul rus/ Libertatea ne-au adus”; “URSS/ bastionul pacii e” etc. astea erau lozincile de-atunci)? In plus, Gheorghiu Dej era cel mai bun conducator, iar dr Petru Groza era cel mai bun dintre doctori pentru ca nu facea injectii copiilor, drept care la moartea lui, anuntata in difuzorul din dormitorul de la gradinita, au inceput sa planga toate educatoarele si binenteles si noi, toti copiii. Cele mai bune carti erau cartile scrise de autori sovietici (de ex. A.P. Gaidar). Cele mai bune filme, cele sovietice, cu subiecte din razboi, unde hitleristii erau o armata jegoasa iar sovieticii erau ostasii cei bravi! Cel mai bun partid, de altfel unicul, era cel comunist iar a fi pionier era o onoare. Conducatorul cel mai iubit Ceausescu si asa mai departe. Calatoriile peste hotare, in occident, total interzise. Cartile tale, erau fie interzise, fie erai trecut ca artist la index, de securitate, si erai definitiv izolat la munca, chiar printre prieteni, ca element negativ, periculos pentru societate. Cozile interminabile la tacamurile de pui, rationalizarea alimentelor de baza, frigul din case, lipsa apei, a curentului electric, puteau sa te faca o generatie vesela? Desigur nu. Iata asadar ca ma mir ca cei din generatia de dupa razboi mai au astazi inca in priviri o stralucie vie, fie ea chiar si a unei lumini de tristete, si ca n-a disparut stralucirea privirii, complet.
Mihai: totusi cartile lui Gaidar erau minunate si au fost putinele , care ne-au inseninat copilaria, le-as citi si azi cu aceeasi bucurie!
generatzia mea, cei care s-au nascut a doua oara in adolescentza defapt, cand a cazut ceasusescu se subamparte la randu-i in alte categorii: cei care au plecat cu ultimul tren (imigrarea) luand de la zero o viatza in cu totul alt context,simtzind dezradacinarea ca pe o durere care-i alina , paradoxal, nemaifiind obligatzi sa suporte mizeria din tzara. cei care au ramas si incerarca din rasputeri sa schimbe lucrurile si fie vor reusi sa schimbe ceva, fie intr-un tarziu vor lua acelasi tren pe care i-au luat sacrificatzii de mai sus. cei care au ramas si se complac.pe acestia-i deplang defapt cel mai tare.
lumi a scris pe blogul său ascutzitori