I have been around so long that, when I watch NHL hockey, I am now following the sons of the guys I used to watch when I was a kid. If that's not clear, let me try it from another angle: Today, we watch the Reinharts and Sutters, Suters and Parises, et al. I do too, but I watched guys with the same names thirty years ago—their fathers!
The same generational intrigue could be said of my students in the classroom: When I started, I was old enough to be their father; now ten, twenty years later, I am old enough to be their grandfather. If I teach another ten years, I, uh, I don't want to go there...
I am feeling, well, sort of disoriented these days, especially when it comes to the next generation. Margaret Thatcher's recent passing is just one more blip on the timeline of life. In my opinion, her successors haven't been up to her level,
I well remember her years in office, and the strength she brought to the free world, not just England. And her association with Ronald Reagan—arguably America's greatest president—was truly a glimmer of hope for the West, some thirty or so years ago.
My musings today are along the lines of generational shifts and lines of succession. Just wondering out loud if the next generation (in most segments) is up to snuff, when compared to the previous one.
In addition to Thatcher, may I remind you of the recent passing of Ralph Klein (former mayor of Calgary and premier of Alberta), George Beverly Shea (veteran Gospel singer), and Art Phillips (former mayor of Vancouver, BC, when I was a lot younger).
Were they flawless leaders? Hardly. Did I agree with all their policies? Are you kidding? But there was a certain confidence and courage they exuded, coupled with character, that is becoming a rare commodity in leaders these days. At least we knew where they stood, agree or disagree.
These deaths remind me first of a simpler, more naive era of my life (as I look back), and of my own mortality (as I look ahead). Furthermore, I really feel they were a generation of leaders who were men and women of integrity and character, men and women of moxie and grit, that we rarely see the likes of today.
So when I see what's coming down the pipe--the next generation, and, if I last long enough, the one after that--that scares the you-know-what out of me. Regardless of whatever sphere in which we find this next generation, I am not particularly encouraged.
In terms of these former statesmen (okay, states-persons, states-humans, whatever), we can all disagree with their policies and politics, I'm sure. But they carried themselves in such a way that demanded respect. I can't say that about the leaders that have followed. Just pick your party or your country, and the proof is in the pudding.
Back to England for a moment, please: Rogues and anarchists all over England celebrated Mrs. Thatcher's death a week or so ago. Freedom of expression, a hallmark of a democratically-free country, has been somehow equated with anarchy. The irony is not lost here: Because of Dame Thatcher's policies—not despite them, as they would ignorantly argue—they had the freedom to cavort and vandalize. It's a wonder they weren't shot.
It would have been enlightening to see that take place in North Korea when its last president died. His
successor—his son, an immature and childish clown of a leader--is a classic example of next generation leadership inferiority. (Maurice, that means that he is worse than his late father, who was worse than his father.)
What I write about is not new. When I was young and trying to reach my generation with the good news using a different paradigm, I’m sure there were church leaders who wondered about my antics. But a different approach, a different style, is, well, different than a complete loss of respect for the foundational norms of any free society.
What one generation may do in moderation, the next may (not necessarily will) do in excess. Things that have come hard for one generation tend to be cherished, protected, and valued; the inverse is frequently true for the next. We see the same model in business: Grandpa establishes it through blood, sweat, and tears; father expands it somewhat; but grandson squanders it.
I need to settle down and go watch some old fashioned hockey. You know, the type that came out thirty years ago.
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