The Last War Baby

With the news of my first grandchild on the way, I reveled in the idea that another generation was coming into our midst, and I began to reminisce about all those who had come before me.  Every generation has its own moniker; Gen Z, Millennial, Gen X, Baby Boomer, and so on.  Even those who aren’t born yet have a pre-set generation name in place.  And as with every generation, there comes a positive or negative connotation with the term, depending on the way you swing politically. 

For those born between 1939-1945, they are the War Babies, a generation of children coming into the world at a time of uprising and chaos, when no one knew what the end of the war would bring.  Even with the success of Operation Overlord, uncertainty and fear still loomed over countless souls.  Adding to the victims of war, many would never know the fathers and brothers who would never return, and those that did, rarely came back the same.

One such war baby was born to an older couple that had already seen the ravages of war, and were spending their days on (what was once) ten acres of Kansas City farm land (now a parking lot).  Like many of her generation, she spent her young years learning to cook, sew, plant crops, and yes, walk to school (uphill, both ways), and during the cold months, she was expected to chip the ice off the water troughs so the animals could drink.  Even though spared the horrors of foreign conflict, she was raised to believe in God, Family, and Country, and went on to instill such beliefs in her own children.  And unfortunately, like many of those who saw their childhood home destroyed, sold, or stolen, she would be one of the many that would be the last in her family to be considered “a farmer’s daughter”.

With her departure from this world, it reminds me that there is sure to be many more “war babies” yet to come, and I cringe at the thought of an uncertain future awaiting my grandchild and those that come after.  So many have already gone before us, and God only knows how many more generations will have to carry on that burden of responsibility.  

With the youngest of the War Baby generation about to be 80, thoughts of those descendants who continue in service away from their loved ones in order to maintain our freedoms stay in my mind.  And as with every generation, there comes a time when the last of their kind becomes extinct, and all that remains is the memories of those left to carry on.  So, today, I pay homage to one of the last; one who came into a world of war, watched the first televised presidential inauguration, saw de-segregation, the first walk on the moon, and the end of the Cold War.  For those whom remain, may your knowledge and experiences not go unappreciated, and may you find comfort in being part of a proud generation that we pray will be honored for the rest of time.

In Memoriam of Margaret Ila Tamblyn 1945-2024