Matt Wood

In recent weeks, I have had numerous reasons to ponder and reflect upon the impact the Greatest Generation has had on my life and, quite frankly, our entire country and even global community.

Specifically, I attended the funeral service for a lady who had the style and beauty of a Hollywood starlet but lived essentially all of her life in Pendleton. I also learned of the passing of a friend of mine who once helped recover the bodies of servicemen killed in a B-17 crash in the Blue Mountains. On a more pleasant note, I spent a couple of hours visiting with one of my favorite neighbors who just turned 91. When he was a younger man, he crossed the Rhine River into Germany with Allied forces at the end of World War II.

The term applied to this group of people who were born roughly in the Teens and Twenties, of course, comes from Tom Brokaw’s book of the same name and is a simple and spot-on description of the folks who grew up in the Great Depression and then fought and won the Second World War. In the farming community where I reside, growing up in this era probably meant that you shared duties milking the family cow, studied the Palmer method of handwriting and the toilet facilities were likely located in a little shack out back of the house.

I was lucky to have been born at a time (man walked on the moon and the Mets won the World Series in the year of my birth) when the Greatest Generation was in charge and available for advice in my formative years.

My favorite uncle was on a minesweeper in the Pacific for three years and later became the most influential mentor in my life. He set an example of how to be a productive farmer, a skilled carpenter and most importantly a responsible citizen and a good man. Five years after his passing, I still miss him and wish I could better emulate him.

Both of my grandmothers survived well into my adult years and I was fortunate enough to also be a neighbor and friend to one for over twenty years. She had a heart far bigger than her diminutive stature and, like so many others her age, was a foremost practitioner of the aforementioned Palmer method.

My other grandmother was a real-life Rosie the Riveter who worked in the Portland shipyards during the war and was tough as nails. She raised two sons as a single mom before such a thing was common. My grandfather was born during Woodrow Wilson’s first term as president and started farming when horsepower was a literal term. He got me into farming and told me a lifetime worth of stories and connected me with a great deal of family and local history.

Perhaps most significantly, my grandfather introduced me to a cast of characters in our area that almost defies belief. I gleaned advice about farm equipment repair from a neighbor who was part of the D-Day invasion at Normandy. I have become friends with an unassuming fellow who left high school before graduation and within months was fighting in the Battle of the Bulge. I have been privileged to belong to a dinner group that includes men who were bomber crew members shot down and taken as prisoners of war as well as a survivor of the Battle of Iwo Jima. Also in the group is a bomber pilot who flew more than 70 missions in the Mediterranean area. My former next door neighbor helped build landing strips on the islands and atolls in the Pacific campaign.

Too often, in my opinion, we refer to people as “heroes” for something they have done or said. The guys mentioned in the previous paragraph are the real deal — nothing most of us will ever do can measure up to their deeds and actions.

This brings me to my final thoughts, for now, concerning the Greatest Generation and why I admire their characteristics. These folks are certainly not without flaw or imperfection but their collective work ethic, perseverance, civility and humility are eminently laudable.

They survived the Depression, war-time rationing and rescued the world from tyranny. Many folks in my generation complain if they don’t have cell service or air conditioning. The generation prior generally just went about the business of building the greatest nation that has ever been without a lot of fanfare or self-adulation.

Finally, while political disagreements have always been a part of our culture, it seems that lately vitriolic rhetoric and acrimonious behavior enjoys near universal appeal. In the spirit of political adversaries Ronald Reagan and Tip O’Neill (who were “friends after 6 p.m.”), I suggest we all raise a toast to the Greatest Generation.

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Matt Wood is his son’s hired man and his daughter’s biggest fan. He lives on a farm near Helix, where he collects antiques and friends.