Being a frugal old man, I’ve taken to doing my grocery shopping at Walmart.  I used to grocery shop at Target, but since they decided to take sides in thekulturkampf, I no longer favor them with my business – seems the least I could do.  But, I gotta tell you – sometimes Walmart is just too much of a blast of 21st Century America, right in the face:  an endless collection of fat, tattooed women with gangs of loud, hyper children, pulling overloaded grocery carts toward the checkout.  Other than me, I’m absolutely sure no one in the store is paying for their own groceries.  Critical, disapproving old white man that I am, I’m always wondering “how many different fathers spawned that brood?”  And “why do you have children you can’t afford to feed?”  And “don’t you have any self-respect?”  And “have you ever held a job?”  Never before, in the history of the world, have there been so many fat, poor people.  Never before, in the history of the world, have there been so many fat, poor people talking on cell phones they don’t pay for.

 

I grew up in pre-ironic, pre-racial healing America, in the 1950s, in the western suburbs of Minneapolis.  It was a high-trust, wonderful place to live – shopping centers, golf courses and the sound of sprinklers.  Women stayed home, by and large, and raised the family – dads worked.  Kids were everywhere and no one wore a bike helmet.  Ike was in the White House.  The sky was blue.  It was fabulous.  I went to a high school with 2500 other kids.  The school had a principal, two assistant principals, a nurse and three ladies who worked in the office – no metal detectors, no cops, no trouble to speak of.  I’m not even sure the principal had a four-year degree.  If he did, it was from some cow-college in North Dakota.  We laughed at him (behind his back) because his first name was Milo.  But Milo certainly wasn’t confused about what his job was.  School was orderly and fun.  Everyone got a decent education in the basics (and then some) and it didn’t cost an arm and a leg.  Teachers were not called educators.  Lunch was 30 cents.

           And then my generation took over.           Here…