I grew up with my mother and grandparents - all survivors of WWII. And by ‘survivors’, I mean true survivors - my grandparents, along with my mum and aunt, lived in the middle of London during the war. My grandfather worked for the War Office, my grandmother did as well - she spoke fluent German so she translated for the British Intelligence and also helped smuggle Jewish children through the underground. My aunt was in the British Army, serving with a Canadian regiment and my mum worked for MI-5 (British Intelligence) - although she didn’t know until after the war.
I do have a point in telling you all of this but I do need to take one more step back - my grandmother. An amazing woman - lived to be 100 and could tell you stories and keep you in stitches. If you’ve ever watched Downton Abbey, my grandmother would have been Sybil (the rebellious one). She also grew up in ‘Downton style’ - only not quite so grand… My grandmother came from the British upper class and was used to having maids and servants. When she was 16 she was sent to finishing school in Germany - and I’m assuming she would be presented at a ‘coming out ball’, as was done at the time. But, in my grandmother’s second year, WWI broke out and she had to return home - but not after mastering the German language (they were not allowed to speak English at school). My grandmother was also a rebel - she told me many stories and looking back, I realized she was kind of a troublemaker - or, as her father would say to her: ‘Margaret, you have a substratum of lowness about you…’ - something that has become a family giggle. My grandmother was also a suffragette and in the early 1920’s moved to NYC with her sister and made bathtub gin and sold it to the NYC police… :)
So where am I going with all this? My family grew up knowing what privilege was but ended up with very little (Great Depression), and also lived through the horrors of a world war (or two). I heard wonderful stories of fun and parties during WWII - and also the terrific devastation, but as with all memories, the happier memories tend to survive. My grandmother was not a fan of money - she always said it was just ‘counters’ - and you exchanged it occasionally for something you wanted. I grew up with money being ‘vulgar’ (as my grandmother would say) and people who flaunted it were the lower classes (you can see here where my grandmother’s upbringing comes into play). In my world, money didn’t give you status, make you important or provide you much other than the essentials in life. Breeding, (again, my grandmother’s word), education (not necessarily formal) and empathy for others is what made you a strong person, someone notable. Also, as in traditional British culture - seeing the funny side of things is a must.
Therefore, Kelly’s comment that there is a trend that the happiest people in the world live in some of the harshest conditions comes as no surprise to me. I come from a different culture - something most people don’t see or understand about me (because I sound American - for starters). I come from a background where money and objects are not considered benchmarks for success, rather, excess. Happiness truly comes from within - you will never find it from external sources (“I’ll be happy when….” is a recipe for disaster). I think I learned to be happy from within from my mum and grandparents and I think, quite often, the less ’stuff’ you have, the less complicated your life - and therefore the happier you are. More food for thought…
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