Returning to normal life after the war


It's June 20th of 2021, and at least here in the United States, the war on COVID-19 is over. The vaccine works great, has been available for free for months, and everybody who wanted it has got it. There may be some stragglers, but not much. And this morning I was pondering the last time that the United States had to get back to normal life after a war, and I can think of no better example than my own parents.

My dad was a Marine in Okinawa during the end of the war, and once he finished up his service he used the GI Bill to go to college, met my mom, and focused on having a normal life. He never, ever, looked back. His attitude towards what he had done reminded me of the way that he used to clean up after us kids when we had done something particularly stupid. He did it, grumbled a bit, and told us not to be so stupid next time. He hated cleaning up messes, and he had done enough it in World War II.

My parents were married in 1950, and over the next seventeen years they made the world a better place, by having my brothers and me. They fed us, and clothed us, and most of all taught us that life was all about living, so get out there and enjoy it. My dad worked hard, and I recall he played a lot of golf. When the war ended for him, it ended.

I know that for a lot of people going from something as serious as a deadly pandemic to getting yourself back out there to practice your putts seems hard to imagine, but that's probably because we've never been called on to do that. I'm 63 years old, and in my whole life nothing has come close to the feeling of wondering what to do after COVID-19. My parents would have known.
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