I recently read an article in The New Yorker magazine about a venerable, but changing institution in Britain. The changes are disturbing long-held, treasured beliefs about establishments which in reality are not quite what they seemed. The head of the institution is under attack, and seems somewhat puzzled by the reaction of people to what may be unpleasant facts from the past. His perplexed comment in response to the uproar was, "I guess they feel that something of them is disappearing."
That quote jumped off the page for me. It seems like an explanation for the resistance the older segment of our population (me) feel towards change. It is not the change itself that is bad, it is just that the change does not validate the way one lived one's own life. After three quarters of a century on this planet, I can say definitively that not much remains of my childhood and young adulthood but memories. The activities are different as are the jobs, the food, the possibilities, and the status of our neighbors. As my computer crashes, another company wants to set up a portal, or I speak to someone in Romania about my nonfunctioning TV, of course, I wish for a time and place that are long gone and seem simpler to me. But there is no sense in railing against the change, for the change is here and I might as well embrace it. It may be better, it may be worse, but sometimes --- it is just different.
I am reminded of an article I read on change that commented that if the automobile had not been invented, New York City would have drowned in horse droppings as the population of people and animals increased. Also, that if the telephone system had continued as it was with telephone operators, every other woman in the country would have eventually been on a switchboard. I need to remember this when my cell phone acts up for what seems no reason at all. I also need to remember this when I can call someone from my car if I have a problem, or chat with a distant grandchild with ease. Change is change and it will always be there, even for the baby born yesterday.
That is why I admired my grandfather so much. We were staying with him while my young husband reported into a new duty station. My grandfather, a Marine veteran of 36 years and a retired general, was learning about the changes in his beloved institution: that the buttons on the khaki uniform had changed, that a young officer could marry without the permission of his commanding officer, and the procedures of reporting in to a new duty station were different than his day. His one comment that I still remember all these years later, was when he graciously told that nascent young Marine, "The Marine Corps has never been better." I hope to have that kind of grace in the face of a changing world.