Carl and a Connection to the Past

Early Saturday morning, Carl showed up at my home to pick up a table and a set of chairs in response to an ad I placed on Craigslist. He spent a few hours talking with me and my son as we disassembled and then loaded the furniture. Being New York; moving anything big is never easy. Throughout the morning, Carl kept telling me how grateful he was for the set but I can definitively say that once Carl left, I was in his debt.

Carl, close to 90, pulled up in a pickup truck. He was carrying a tool bag and walked in with a smile. He immediately extended his hand to my son, and we went to work. After some pleasantries and talk about New York, I pointed out Carl’s worn, old hat to my son, and Carl smiled. I explained to my son that Carl was not only a veteran but—as was evident by his hat pins—a supporter of Israel and had been an American paratrooper in Korea. When I explained that Carl jumped out of planes to help our country, my son’s eyes opened wide and he said, “What!? Why?!”

Over the next hour, Carl mesmerized my son with stories of serving our nation and how he fought in past wars in several theaters. He told my son about how he would jump out of planes, and while he was scared, he knew that he was doing this for a bigger purpose and that we were all working together to make the world a freer and safer place. Carl shared his love for this country, talking about freedom, opportunity, and being willing to fight and sacrifice so that our American ethos remains strong and resilient. He answered all of my son’s many questions and told me that he laments our nation’s current resolve and change in attitudes toward tackling big problems, citing optimism from the upcoming second Trump administration.

As my son was given a history lesson and crash course on civics, I realized that it was because of growing up surrounded by men like Carl that I hold many of the views and attitudes toward the nation that I do today. My deep appreciation of hard work and upward mobility, the American Dream, and our nation’s values of innovation, education, ambition, and inclusion were cemented by the stories and lives of these men. They were fortunately present in many aspects of my life, from my synagogue full of veterans who built the institution after World War II to the leadership of my Boy Scout troop and the many members of my Masonic Lodge. They all selflessly served our nation when called but continued to do so well after they took off their uniforms by being the Greatest Generation and building intuitions and organizations that thrived and helped shape younger generational cohorts such as myself.

Decades later, many of the veterans have passed away, and the many institutions that they built—veterans associations, social and communal groups like the Elks, bowling leagues, and even religious community centers—are in steep decline. In the area of New York where I live, joining a Masonic Lodge and being active in a scout troop is very challenging. An occasional veteran is in my current synagogue, but I have no relationship with any of them, and my son certainly does not. Men like Carl were the glue in their community, and with so few left, it should surprise no one that our communities now regularly show high levels of isolation, low levels of neighborliness and social capital. Those who anchored neighborhoods and deeply believed in helping the community and people outside of their bubbles are few and far between and the nation is worse off for it.

With everything ready for Carl’s truck, it looked like there was not enough room for all of the chairs with the table in the bed. I offered to hold the chairs for another time and Carl looked at me and simply said—as so many of his generation did—that we would figure it out. Before I knew it, all eight chairs were strapped and secured. Carl made it work and impressed my son along the way. Carl gave me a gift, and that was sharing a past and a version of America that my son does not very often see. I do not know who is going to fill the shoes of men like Carl; our nation could use many more citizens who hold grit, optimism, community and possibility at their cores. I certainly hope that my son remembers Carl’s visit for years to come. I will.