Most of us remember our parents, our grandparents through the halcyon lenses of their own fictions.
“Back in our day…”
Really, we know it wasn’t all Wally and the Beav, yet we somehow long for that small town sense of community that we knew as children. Those “great” days, “great men” are our heroes and stories.
I’m sorry, but Rockwell’s America was a nightmare for everyone but white, religious men.
The same human flaws, failings and horrors that we see as the visage of this age existed then too, they were just hidden, covered up to protect the illusion of white male perfection.
I prefer to be blinded by the light to suffocation under the sounds of silence.