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connections and a lot of grief. I’ve come to this conclusion after giving the matter a great deal of thought. Let’s state the problem in the simplest possible terms. You, as a member of the older generation, give me advice and tell me what to do. You base your instructions to me on your own time-tested knowledge and practical know-how. You expect that if I follow your directions correctly, I will be successful. Whenever I fail— or seem to, in your eyes— you simply assume that I, and not your guidance, am to blame. I, as a member of the younger generation, at first look to you to teach me how to live. I follow your directives religiously, afraid to deviate in any particular. But over time, it comes to pass that your version of reality and my experience of it do not agree. What happens, then? Of course, you loose your credibility, authority, control over me. The older I get, the less will I accept someone else’s word against my own opinion. I begin to believe that, in my case, experience has been the best teacher; at the same time, I will not accept another’s experience as valuable or authoratative — especially if that other is younger than I. Moreover, I expect those same younger folks to accept my judgement as superior to their own. Now, if things never changed, if they always stayed the same, the older generation would never loose authority over the younger members of our race. In such a world, events would never belie or challenge the official version of reality. Rebellion against those who already control — that is, the old — would be totally unnecessary; thus, rebellion could never be legitimized. So, arguing in their own best interest, older people claim that they’ve seen it all, that nothing changes and that, if the young know what’s good for them, they’ll listen to their elders. Am I right?” My question hung in the air. No answer was forthcoming. By God, I thought I had her! I pressed my advantage. “Last time we spoke you said that you remembered being young. I hope you’ll pardon me for noting that “ remembering” is not the same as “being”. Then, again, you were young at a different time and in another place. So much has changed between your youth and mine. Given these circumstances, how can you deny that I am, in fact, the best judge of what is good for me? How can you insist that you know better? After thinking about it, wouldn’t you concede that I am qualified to be— decidedly, that I deserve to be— the captain of my ship and master of my fate? Will there ever come a day when you’ll agree to see me as myself and not as a younger version of yourself? Can’t you understand how different my generation is from yours? How changed the world is? Things do not stay the same. Events do not repeat themselves. We must meet each new day with an open mind, learnig to live in the present and not the past. As David Hume made amply clear, just because the sun has risen every morning does not guarantee that it will rise tomorrow.” My rebuttal was completed; I was proud of myself. I had gotten it all out without mistake or hesitation. I just knew that she, on the other end of the line, must be speechless with admiration. Her voice came across to me with same shocking effect as a sudden splash of ice water on a sun-heated, sleeping head. “ David Hume, my dear, also said that his philosophy was, in practical terms, useless as a guide for conducting one’s life. And there’s a lot more I could say about this silliness which you espouse. But— because I have no intention of answering your tirade point-by-point — I’ll just say that at your age I was just like you; I, too, refused to believe that history repeats itself. The problem was, of course, I had not lived long enough to see it happen. As you get older, you’ll be amazed how much your opinions will change and how much the world remains the same. Then, you’ll remember what I said today and think, ‘She was the first who ever told me so.’ Living in the present, you will learn, is just fine so long as you do not forget the past. You’ll do well to heed my advice.” I was speechless, really speechless! I decided that there’s no way to get through to that woman. Not only is she stubborn, she simply does not listen. And now, dear reader, it’s up to you to evaluate her argument and mine. Moreover, after hearing her say and my say, you can determine whether in fact, as well as in folk sayings, two heads are better than one. We — that is, both she and I — have done our part. For after all, we do not promise clarity of thought, we guarantee you only Double Vision. CHRONOLOGICAL REVIEW OF BR 72 from 1/1 thru 12/31/79 Br. 72 is bilingual branch, composed mainly of American born women of Ukrainian descent. We are 38 members at the close of 1979. We hold our meetings the 3rd Wednesday of each month at the Ukrainian Institute, 2 E. 79th St., N. Y. C. Not all of our members can speak, read or write in Ukrainian, and a few do not understand it too well. However, this does not deter us from actively partici pating in Ukrainian affairs and in the Ukrainian community in general. We are proud of our Ukrainian heritage, and thus would like to further enhance our lives with the rich Ukrainian culture that has been handed down to us by our forefathers. We have 1 member on the UNWLA executive board, and 2 members on the Regional Council Board. We always recite a prayer and sing the Soyuzanka hymn before each monthly meeting begins. We conclude by serving refresh ments. Our members attend the various workshops offered by UNWLA, such as embroidery classes; egg decoration classes, etc. We read all mail sent to us from 26 НАШЕ ЖИТТЯ, КВІТЕНЬ 1980 Видання C оюзу Українок A мерики - перевидано в електронному форматі в 2012 році . A рхів C У A - Ню Йорк , Н . Й . C Ш A.
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