“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Roosevelt, the second president carrying that name, said as his nation struggled, full of poor people who tried to hope instead of worry.
It was long ago. Before a world war killed millions in new, horrific ways. Before men then returned from war, before babies boomed, before newlyweds bought houses, cars, electric washers, TVs and more. Before the nation grew and grew.
Wars still happened, but they remained far away, even when Americans still died in them. When peace faded at home, it was us fighting us. Over racial equality, over women’s rights, over breaking old rules, over creating new ones.
He was born into that, in the 1970s. A decade of plaids and browns, wide collars, the end of The Beatles, malaise. A confused nation growing restless with itself while trying to ignore the long Cold War.
Now, well into a new century, the sheen of childhood and nostalgia coats memories of those times. He wonders if he’d go back to that instead of stay in the present. It’s tempting.
Because now, fear has taken over. And old FDR was right: fear itself has led to a terrifying world.