Who’s that grump on the sofa?

Why am I still here? Timing is everything.

My four grandparents were 19th Century Eurpoeans, born between 1869 and 1877. Their families paid their own way to steamer to pre-Ellis Island New York City around 1890.

They met in New England and started 19th Century Families. They were working-class heroes of the Industrial Revolution; and they all died way before I was born.

My parents were born in 1919, each the youngest of large 19th Century Families. They were working-class heroes of the World War II Generation; and they passed years ago.

Yet I’m a Gen Xer. Talk about ‘late to the party.’

I was raised by 19th Century People to be an upstanding 19th Century American. Baptized, Eucharized and Confirmed Christian. Former professional church chorister. Tax donkey.

Problem was, the world I was being prepared for no longer existed by the time I came along…it just appeared the same to my parents, credulous1 19th Century People who couldn’t smell the big-picture cultural rot right under their little noses.

Sometimes I wish I had gone off to live with the Amish after high school…

Anyway, being a 19th Century Refugee trapped in the 21st century urban-dominated United States has been most frustrating. Over the past 20 years or so I have developed a coping strategy for the clownshow I am forced to live within:

Witness everything, believe nothing, and eventually PATTERNS EMERGE

I will be using this platform to express my often-unique 19th Century perspective on the patterns I observe regarding the dumpster fire that I am witnessing.

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy My 2¢.

Disclaimer:

1

Merriam-Webster lists skeptical as an antonym! No wonder!

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Skeptical sofa-based observations of a 19th Century Refugee, noticer and analyst. I hope you find My 2¢ helpful.

People

I identify as a 19th Century Refugee - my pronouns are we/were. Doctor of Skepsis (Sk.D). I won't accept your money, but I will accept your respect.