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“You know dad, the problem with you and mom is that you live in the past,” my teenage son told us recently. When asked to explain, he continued, “you and most Iranians your age constantly talk about how things were when you were growing up back in Iran; how if you had bought such and such real estate or land you would be very rich now; and, how if you had gone to medical school you would be making so much money.”
After thinking for a while, I came to realize that he is absolutely right! My generation is living in the past. Come to think of it, I wonder whether our kids at times listen to us not so much because of what we say but because they want to respect us. I am sure you have come across the same scenario if you have kids. For my generation growing up in Iran, parents were measured by how they raised their children. If your children became doctors, lawyers or engineers, you were considered great parents. Here in America, we still carry that trait to a large degree and therein lies the issue of the generation gap. I don’t know about you but I actually don’t see anything wrong with this.
For as long as there have been parents, a generation gap has also existed in one form or another. A generation gap simply occurs when older and younger people do not understand each other because of their different experiences, opinions, habits and behavior. In America, the term came into prominence during the 1960s due to the cultural differences between the Baby Boomers and their parents. Growing up in Iran, I recall that as teenagers, we were required to achieve the highest grades in school, competing with so many other kids with the same requirement from their parents. Unfortunately, we had no choice or few choices when it came to college and profession. What you liked or what you had passion for was not necessarily what was valued by your parents or society at the time.
That’s why I guess we see very many “successful” doctors, engineers, professors, and lawyers among my generation who may not even like or be happy with what they are doing. You may think we learned something from our own experience, but when our turn comes as parents, we are still pushing our sons or daughters to study medicine or law, while they might love to be, say, a teacher, an artist or an actor. So what’s going on here? Is it us? Is it living in America? Or is it that the new generation is simply different? Honestly, I do not know the answer but I do know it is probably a combination of all these.
Let’s start with the new generation. I am sure you hear this phrase a lot from your teenage son or daughter: “I'm bored." This is when their friends will not be available for a few more hours, and unless they have someone to chat with, the computer won't be of any use. Homework is for the nerds, walking or going to the park is for the middle aged, and books only interest older people. This is when you think to yourself what did I do at their age? As I remember, our school hours were much longer. We all walked home and homework swallowed the rest of our evenings. If we had finished all of our home work, we would join others in front of our single small TV set and watch whatever happened to be on. Weekends meant one day off. Thursday nights provided a family gathering at a relative's home or, if we were lucky, at the movies. It did not matter what we saw as long as we went to the first "séance" of the first night because it meant all the young people would be there.
In a society where the youth had limited freedom, looking at each other intrigued us much more than any feature film. Most of Friday belonged to bath, haircut, and an extra load of homework. Also, in honor of this one day-off, radio programs became more interesting and meals a little more elaborate. Shopping meant buying the necessities and, with any time left, we invented our own games or played backgammon or card games. With so much to do, I don't remember boredom. When I look at my “poor” children's life, what is left for them to do? Every corner they turn there are televisions, videos, films, books and computers. There's no thrill left in them. They are just there. Why go for a walk in fresh air if you can slouch in your computer cave? Why socialize with a group if you have two and a half buddies who know how to play video games?
As I recall my younger days and that simple life, I am filled with a deep compassion for the new generation. Technology has given them the tools in exchange for their imagination, and entertainment in exchange for their time. A whole generation has come to believe that success doesn't necessarily come from knowledge, better education, or hard work. I feel for every one of these young people and understand why they are bored. When there is no attraction to beauty, nature, books, good music or poetry, when all of what used to be beautiful is saved for the nerds, life can be boring.
Now let’s look at my generation, the 50 something crowd. I remember many pieces of advice from my elders which I heeded totally during my formative years, laughed at them during my early adulthood as I was exposed to Western world, now appreciate them the most, and I feel like passing them on to my children. Yes, it takes that long for wisdom to soak in. As is customary in Persian culture, we were taught many single versed poems and idioms each of which constituted a piece of valuable advice.
These verses, in addition to being short, were pleasant, simple, and easy to memorize with good punch lines. Here are some examples. In emphasizing the value of the older generation we were reminded that "dood az kondeh paa misheh," meaning that there is more heat and smoke in a stump than in a young twig. I was told to always respect the ones who had gone through more shirts -- meaning those older than I was. The young were always expected to initiate the greeting to the old, although it was recommended to greet first -- pish salaam -- regardless of the age of the person I greeted. This was an indication of being humble. The Persian word for old (peer) is associated with a person who deserves respect. This is the equivalent of a mentor, role model, etc., who deserves to be emulated. I was taught this poem: "bee peer maro to dar kharaabaat, har chand Eskandareh zamaani," which translates to: do not do anything before you consult an older person (peer), even if you are Alexander the Great!
Obviously, such mutual respect between young and old was beneficial to both. The young learned what they would not otherwise and the old were elated, felt younger and were encouraged to help the young through life. This relationship also had a therapeutical value for both parties in that there was little need for counselors. Coming to America many of us faced some tough situations and managed to do well against all odds.
As we got older, we also observed that in this country gradually but surely the aging and the aged are considered a curse rather than blessing for the young who refer to the old people as dudes, oldies and other names. In more and more homes there is no respect even for parents- much less the grandparents and other old people. As more of these children become parents themselves, the problem is compounded and aggravated; and who knows what the future holds? More and more grown-ups place their parents into nursing homes even if they have the time and money to take care of them because they have never established a bond with them.
It is against this backdrop that Iranians of my age, rightly so, want to instill in their children the values by which we were raised and, frankly, I do not see anything wrong with it, as long as it is done with love and the understanding that the younger ones are also being surrounded with people of other values and cultural norms that might be different from ours. In the end, according to another ethical rule I have learned in my youth, we reap what we sow. My hope is that for us to teach our kids to respect the elders at a stage of life when they need caring and sharing and compassion the most. After all, our intelligent and lovely youth are the greatest assets of this nation.
As the stories were passed on to us by our elders we, in turn, make a gift of to the next generation. Although we each remember our own unique chain of events, they will continue to link us, bond us, and the union of the raindrops will make the river flow.
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