As America Celebrated Independence Day; Are Things Better?

Personal recollections

We often look back with nostalgia at the “good old days.” But were they truly better?

I’m not American, though I did live in Denver for nearly two years on a work visa and have travelled extensively through 47 of the 50 states. My schooling took place in Toronto, Canada—just 90 miles from the U.S. border. Growing up in the 1950s and ’60s, we had access to the three major American television networks, so we were always up to date on what was happening south of the border. Toronto at the time was a very safe city of 1.5 million, even nicknamed “Toronto the Good.” On Sundays, bars and cinemas were closed, and Yonge Street, the main downtown strip, was deserted.

From as early as I can remember, I’ve felt a strong affinity for the United States—its ideals, its energy, and its achievements. Unlike many Canadians, I harbored no anti-American sentiment.

My first encounter with the U.S. was at age 12, in 1958. My parents and I drove our 1956 Chevy to Chicago, with a stop in what was then a relatively safe Detroit.

I still remember being introduced to something entirely new to me: pizza. In Chicago, we were warmly welcomed by relatives, and I’ll never forget the evening my older cousins Emil and Cecile took us to Berghoff’s, a traditional German restaurant that, I believe, is still operating today. I was awestruck by the scale and vibrancy of the city—it dwarfed Toronto.

Two years later, we travelled to New York City by train, and again I was captivated by the energy of America’s premier metropolis. The following year, we drove all the way to southern Florida. This was before GPS or online maps—the Ontario Motor League would provide detailed route booklets for your destination. For a 15-year-old, it was another unforgettable adventure.

At 16, I earned my driver’s license and bought my dad’s '56 Chevy for $300—money I had saved from part-time jobs. Soon, I was driving across the border with friends on more American road trips, including another journey to Florida.

Despite being a somewhat distracted student—more interested in girls and playing pool—I had a happy childhood. Back then, we had a clear sense of gender identity. There were no blurred lines or complex labels around sexuality. In my view, that clarity has been lost, and not to society’s benefit.

All my friends seemed normal. Sure, we got into the usual mischief, but no one was diagnosed with ADHD or autism—at least not openly. If you acted out, you were reprimanded. You respected your teachers, not the other way around. Discipline and structure were part of everyday life.

Looking back—not with nostalgia but with honesty—the education I received was outstanding. We studied history and geography in depth, learning about liberalism, socialism, fascism, communism, and capitalism. We were taught about the Magna Carta, revolutions across Europe and America, and the foundations of Western civilization. Today, much of that has been replaced by vague references to climate change, colonialism, and a “woke” reinterpretation of the past.

The 1960s felt magical, watching America focus its energy on landing a man on the moon. American technology led the world. No one imagined China could be a rival.

Throughout my school and university years, I never encountered drugs. They simply weren’t present. There was respect—for your country, its institutions, and each other. There was pride in being Canadian, and Americans shared that pride in their own nation. Now, however, that pride seems to be eroding. A recent poll showed that only 34% of U.S. Democrats say they are proud to be American—a worrying trend.

When we lived in Denver during 1992–93, under the Clinton administration, we noticed the growing polarization between Democrats and Republicans. My wife likened it to a rubber band being pulled tighter and tighter apart, ready to snap. Looking back, that division seems tame compared to today’s hostility and venom.

Of course, not everything was perfect in the ’50s. Racism against Black people and Jews was real. Country clubs and institutions barred them openly. That began to change with the Civil Rights Act of 1964. But racism hasn’t vanished—it’s just morphed. Today, anti-Semitism often comes from the political left, and racial hostility now includes anti-white rhetoric—even within Congress.

Life expectancy was lower then, but kids were generally healthier. Obesity and chronic illness were rare. My first car had no seat belts or safety features, but we viewed those “Yank tanks” with pride, not disdain.

Technology has brought us incredible freedoms, yet in many ways, it has enslaved us. If you told a 1950s child that future kids would sit silently on phones or tablets in restaurants rather than talk with family, we’d have been shocked.

“Phubbing”—the act of snubbing someone by focusing on your phone—is now common. We’ve come a long way from the clunky black rotary dial phones and manual typewriters—though ironically, some are now back in vogue.

So, were the ’50s and ’60s better? The movies were certainly more wholesome. Even crime films were less graphic. Nudity and profanity were censored, which some argue made them less “real.” But film is art, not reality. The best films didn’t need shock value to leave a lasting impression.

In many ways, America was indeed better then. Today, crime is rampant, political hostility has reached dangerous levels, and the country seems deeply bipolar. Family life and church attendance are at all-time lows. In many American institutions, the soul has gone missing.

This isn’t something that can be fixed with legislation or charismatic leadership. Each American—and I’d say, each Canadian and Australian as well—must look inward and ask, as John F. Kennedy so wisely said:
“Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.”