I don’t know when it left. Maybe when he died, in 1978. I suspect maybe earlier, in the Sixties. Some readers may not even be familiar with the name, especially if you are younger than 50.

Norman Rockwell was a celebrated American painter and illustrator for over five decades. His works had a broad popular appeal for their reflection of the American culture of his time. He is most famous for his cover illustrations of everyday life created for The Saturday Evening Post magazine. He is also noted for his more than 60-year relationship with the Boy Scouts of America (when they were just boys), during which he produced covers for the organization’s publication Boys’ Life, for calendars and promotional posters.

Maybe his most recognizable piece even today is titled “Freedom From Want.” The composition depicts a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. Around the table, a multigenerational family eagerly gathers as the grandmother sets down what must be a 25-pound golden brown turkey while grampa stands behind, ready to carve it. It’s among my favorites, along with “Saying Grace,” which shows an older woman and a young boy pausing, heads bowed to pray before their meal, drawing curious glances from a wide demographic of fellow diners.

The art world of his day found Rockwell sentimental and out of touch. Many of his works continue to be denigrated by modern critics, especially the Post covers, which they say tend toward overly idealistic or romanticized past portrayals of American life. I disagree. I’m a Baby Boomer. I grew up in the Fifties, and lived what he painted.

Back in the day (that sounds so senior citizen-ish, because it is), automobiles were big and sleek, with large tailfins and a flowing design that mimicked the look of Space Race rockets. They had actual chrome bumpers but no seatbelts. They were gas guzzlers, but nobody cared because you could drive up to your neighborhood Texaco pumps and fill up the tank for five bucks, get your oil and tire pressure checked, and even have your windows washed by a friendly station attendant. Seriously.

 Few women actually went to work. They were housewives. Mom wore an apron while cooking and baking. Dad came home and read the newspaper. They both went to school PTA meetings. All together we watched a black and white TV on a screen inside of a piece of furniture called a console. We hurried through dinner and dishes to tune in to I Love Lucy, Gunsmoke and Father Knows Best (can you imagine such a sit-com in today’s anti-patriarchal culture?) I ran around the neighborhood dressed up like a cowboy — hat, boots and all, with cap guns blazing. We used pencils, paper and a 64-pack of crayons in grade school and learned about the practical value of civics, grammar and history. Movie theatres handed out special glasses so we could cringe viewing Creature from the Black Lagoon in 3-D. Ladies wore hats and gloves to church. Folks dressed up to go out to eat and to board an airplane, and if the flight was more than an hour long, were served a hot meal. You could smoke everywhere.

This storybook lifestyle had its share of dark pages, however. We worried about the Atomic Bomb and polio outbreaks and the Cold War. The civil rights injustices in the South were about to go national, and while freedom eventually won, the process was ugly.

Norman Rockwell was an original. No one has ever outdone him in a contemporary expression of everyday life elevated to an iconic level. I admire his efforts to chronicle a now bygone era. Gone forever.

What is the self-reflective and world view of the American identity today? Who is painting that, whatever it is? You’d have to be from outer space not to admit that our country has gradually abandoned traditional moral and ethical values, once celebrated as foundational to our stability as a society. When a culture decides that moral absolutes are too restrictive to personal freedom, then what replaces the behavioral compass in order to prevent getting lost in a dark maze of narcissistic relativism? Is there a way out? Does anyone actually want out?

So then if eventually everything inevitably changes, for better or worse, are there no absolutes, no constants? Perhaps not in the natural world, but I suggest you look into the supernatural: “I am the LORD, I change not,” is a verse from the most reliable source of truth, the Bible, in Malachi 3:6. Lamentations 3:22 declares that “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end.” That’s Old Testament. The New Testament in Hebrews 13:8 says Jesus is the same “yesterday, today, and forever.” 

What a comfort to know that, while everything these days seems to toss us about in a raging sea of uncertainty and fear, we can drop an anchor of hope in an immutable God whose faithfulness is forever. (Heb. 6:16-20)

You can file this post in your
My How Things Have Changed folder.

More to come.