generations

Every generation is influenced by their parents. From Baby Boomers (who were largely raised by the Silent Generation) to Gen X (the majority of which were raised by Baby Boomers) to Millennials (raised older Gen X and younger Boomers), their parents left an impact that defined each one. For those raised by the Greatest Generation (those born between 1901 and 1927), their unique upbringings are filled with experiences that are still cherished generations later.

Over on Reddit in a subforum of people born before 1980, member gameboy90 posed the question: "What was it like having a parent who was part of the Greatest Generation (born 1901-1927)?"

Many people raised with parents (and some grandparents) from the Greatest Generation shared their childhood experiences. These are 15 amazing stories from people raised by parents of the Greatest Generation.

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"My folks were born in the late teens/mid-twenties. They met and married during WWII. As a kid growing up in the 1970s, I joked that I was the last kid to be raised in the 1950s, because that's the decade where my parents were really adults and absorbed a lot of their ideas. Neither of them liked to talk much about the past, there wasn't any talk of the depression or the war, but I was told how easy I had it on a fairly regular basis. I was taught to be grateful and how lucky I was. They were fairly distant parents -- I was cared for, but not hovered over in any way. I was regularly kicked out of the house to go entertain myself until the streetlights came on." —localgyro

"One of my parents was part of this cohort and the other parent was just a couple of months too young to technically belong to the Greatest Generation. I heard endless stories about what childhood was like during The Great Depression and the notion of not wasting things was pounded into me. I was taught to not trust the stock market and to not count your chickens before they are hatched. Do people even use that expression anymore?! Both of my parents felt it was important to look one's best in public at all times. I remember my mother wore girdles long after it was fashionable to do so and my father wore undershirts in the hottest of weather." —Woodinvillian

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"My grandparents were greatest generation. Very hardworking. Very stoic. Super secretive. While they weren’t racist, they were prone to using slang like Wop (gpa was Italian) etc. My gma left school in 8th grade to help on the family farm. Gpa made it thru High School and didn’t go to war due to helping the family ice business. Back in the day, they cut ice from the ponds w huge saws and packed it away in sawdust or straw. His brothers went to war though." —apurrfectplace

"I’m not sure you can generalize about a cohort that includes so many millions of people. My parents were born in 24 and 26 and I was born in 52. My father spent WWII In Europe and never would talk much about his experience. My father was a teacher, high school principal and then a college professor. My mother stayed home and raised my brother and I. My parents were hardworking, honest, decent people. They were also progressive, liberal and intellectual and participated in the civil rights marches of the 1960s and later supported my brother and I in our opposition to the Vietnam war." —valisglans

"Both parents were born in the time frame you gave. We are American, and my grandparents were immigrants from Eastern Europe. My father was a WWII infantryman and Purple Heart recipient. He almost never talked about the war, although he did recount his experiences to another family member who was doing a living history project. My Dad apparently lived through some awful times when he served overseas during the war. My mother came from a well to do family, and she never mentioned weathering much hardship during the Great Depression... During these days of Covid-19, I am reminded of my late father’s frugality (which he learned during the Great Depression). I am reminding myself how he never let anything go to waste, and how he would repurpose items around the house, rather than get rid of them if they were at all useful. My parents weren’t hoarders or anything like that (quite the opposite), but they did use items up until they could be used no more. I used to roll my eyes at my dear Dad over that at times, but now of course I see the wisdom in it. My grandparents were all born in the last quarter of the 1800s, and lived through the 1918 pandemic. I wish they were still able to answer my questions about how they survived it, or at least I wish my parents were able to answer my questions regarding my grandparents’ recollections of it." —Hey_Laaady

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"My parents were born in the teens of 1900's. Both to poor, but educated families. Music, art, that sort of thing, that generally pays poorly in good times. But during the depression? Not much at all. Like others in this thread, we were taught to use up everything, don't waste anything. Food was made into leftovers. Clothing was repaired, and passed down from child to child. If we wanted to get rid of something, give it to someone who could use it. Don't leave the lights on. Don't waste water. We also had a vegetable garden, and we kids helped weed it. We snapped and froze beans from it for the winter. We played outside all day in the summer, and came in for supper. Had to be home when the street lights came on. Dad had war stories about WWII which he told often, but never about fighting, but rather about his commanding officer, or something weird that happened. I'm pretty sure he had PTSD, but you bucked up and got on with life. My parents were both really good people. My mother raised us, and my dad 'brought home the bacon'." —sanna43

"Awesome. They loved each other deeply. They loved their siblings, parents, aunts and uncles who we all regularly visited. Mom and Dad were good parents who provided us with love and a good home. Maddening. They were soooooo much older than my friend's parents, still clung to Depression-era frugality, wanted us kids to be independent but NOT IN TROUBLE." —Sunkitteh

"They were the finest people I've ever met: selfless, loving, devoted to family. There will never be another generation like them." —Offthepoint

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"Dad worked a blue collar job and mom was a homemaker. There was always dinner at the dining room table every night. My dad made $85 a week and that was enough to keep a roof over our head and our tummies full. Mom (born 1922) stretched the ground round by putting grated potatoes in it. I don't really remember going without very often. I only remember a pair of shoes I really wanted in the early 70's that we couldn't afford...My dad was born in 1921 and was the strong silent type. Never spoke much nor showed much affection but we knew he loved us. They never fought. I never remember them fighting or hearing them yelling at each other. If there was anything they didn't want us to know they would talk to each other in Spanish. They never taught us girls because we 'didn't need to speak it'. I sure wish they had taught us. Back then it was more about assimilation." —AuntChilada

"Since my folks grew up during the depression, the thriftiness they learned was passed on to us kids. Even in the city, we had a vegetable garden in the 1960s, as well as several fruit bearing trees...We were raised with more discipline than some of our classmates, but less than others. We took responsibility for our actions at early ages and were seen as trouble makers because we didn't deny it when caught red handed." —Swiggy1957

"Lots of great war stories. Lots of lies. Lots of racist beliefs (how come people never mention how racist old people can be?). Generous but highly critical. Intelligent and accomplished. High expectations with little guidance or input. Dad was born in 1913." —aiandi

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"My dad (born 1905 in Buffalo, NY) and my mom (born 1909 in St. Louis, MO) were both children of Polish immigrant parents. My mom graduated from elementary school, but my dad was pulled out of school during his last half of 8th grade so he could go to work at Kutchens Furniture Co. in St. Louis as a woodworker so he could support the family (his dad had died a year earlier). My mom got a job as a seamstress at a clothing company where she worked until she got married. in 1925 my dad obtained employment at Robertson Aircraft Co. at the airport as a mechanic for the air mail airplanes. He became good friends with Charles Lindbergh when Lindbergh was still an air mail pilot. In 1926 he started building his own airplane in his backyard. In 1929, when the stock marked crashed, his airplane was nearly complete. But he had to put a hold on it in order to work crazy hours at Robertson to continue his employment. He and his mother, brother and sister all lived in one house and they raised chickens, rabbits and a vegetable garden in the back yard. Home brewed beer was made along with a concoction of straight grain alcohol colored with tea that they called 'Old Skunk'. The airplane was flown in 1930 but the depression went on, and on and on. Nothing was thrown away since there was always another use for everything. My mom and dad finally met and got married in 1937. A year later I was born and now there were 6 people living in a small 2 bedroom 1 bath house. In 1941 the United States entered the war. My dad was too young for the first world war and too old for the second world war, so he obtained employment with Curtiss-Wright Aircraft Corp. as a loftsman for the wing of the C-46 'Commando' transport aircraft. He remained at Curtiss-Wright until the end of the war. Once married, my mom became the traditional housewife. During my early years we lived like it was still the depression and it was pounded into me on a daily basis. The only good thing that happened during the war years was dad got extra gas ration stamps because he was working in the defense industry. My mom had a foot operated Singer sewing machine that she used for the rest of her life. My dad didn't buy a powered lawn mower - he made one using the motor from a junked motor scooter he found in the junk yard. At dinner time you ate everything on your plate - period! To this day it has been engrained in me - take what you want, but eat what you take. Yes, the Greatest Generation raised a whole different breed of children. When I was growing up, if I needed a whack on my butt I got a whack on my butt. Maybe two whacks! And my teachers could do it too. If the teachers did that today it would be on the 5 o'clock news." —55pilot

"My parents were born in the 1920's. My father was drafted in 1944. He waited out the war in the Philippines. He didn't say much about it. Only that he saw awful things and war is really, really bad. After the war he worked for USPS and met my mother. They moved to NJ and raised 6 kids on a working class salary. My parents were both strict Catholics. It wasn't a very demonstrative relationship. They put a roof over our heads and fed us so we needed to STFU and clean our rooms. My mother was kinder; my father was distant and withdrawn. There was a huge generation gap. They adored clean-cut American entertainment: broadway musicals, Johnny Mathis, Perry Como, etc. Meanwhile, us 60's and 70's kids were all about Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin. It caused tension. Once we became teens, us boys all grew our hair long. The folks HATED it, but they allowed it because we made a big deal over it and it was the trend at the time. My parents never drank and never used foul language. Cursing was forbidden in the house. Even 'damn' was retconned to 'darn'. Period. No exceptions. Discussions about sex (or indulging in any measure of explicit material) was also utterly forbidden." —CitizenTed

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"My father was born in 26. My mother is a bit too young to meet this criteria. But they were both frugal people. My mother was a bit more sympathetic about it. 'Do you need it, or do you just want it?' My father was more dismissive, in a half joking, half mocking manner: 'you need that like you need a hole in the head', 'I wouldn't kick a dead dog for a truckload of (whatever it was I wanted)', alternatively he 'wouldn't sign his name for a boatload'. If I wanted to see a movie or a concert, he 'wouldn't walk from here to the corner (to see them, even) if they paid him.' At least he was amusing. Last week, he told me about something that would 'hare lip Santa Claus', and I still don't know what that means...My father grew up on a farm. As a boy, he plowed with a mule, and used a carved cypress knee to make holes for the seeds. The old plow was still in storage when I was growing up, and was always more fun for me to climb on and play than the old tractors were. My father says that at school, instead of each kid bringing their own lunch, each person would bring something to add to a pot of soup. I don't know if that was everyday, though. My grandmother had a large garden and also did home baking and canning to sell at the farmer's market. The better stuff always got sold. One of my aunts said they never got any cookies that hadn't burnt. 😕 My father served at the tail end of WW2, in the Pacific." —MetalSeagull

"My parents married after the second world war. My mother had been engaged and her fiancé was killed overseas. They were pretty old for their generation to be getting married. Born in 1919 and 1918 they married in 1950. Being good Catholics they then started having babies. My mother lost four of the pregnancies late term and had four babies eventually. I was born when she was 40 and my younger brother when she was 47 because of the pregnancies and recovery from them. My mother became a teacher and my dad was a draftsman. They never had a mortgage, paid cash for their cars and ALWAYS had a ton of tinned food. If I wanted a ham and cheese sandwich my mother would say no because that was two meals. Ham sandwich and a cheese sandwich. I don't think either of them ever missed a day of work for anything less than a heart attack. Seriously. They just got up every morning and did what the rules said they should do. My dad was an enormously talented man with an incredible intellect and my mother was artistic and romantic. I feel that with the war, service and losses they never got the chance to experience self expression like they may have wanted to. Duty to God and family. They both died young at 61 and 67." —Rosiebelleann