When I look back on growing up in the 1960s, I sometimes wonder how we survived without smartphones, the internet, streaming services, or GPS.
We couldn’t instantly look up an answer, order something online, or send a message to someone on the other side of the world.
And yet, somehow, we managed.
Every generation has something to teach us. Not everything from the past was better, and I certainly wouldn’t want to give up all the conveniences and advances we have today. But I do believe there are some values from those days that are worth remembering—and perhaps bringing back.
The funny thing is, those values weren’t usually taught through lectures or instructions. They were learned by watching the adults around us. Actions really do speak louder than words.
Growing Up Between Two Worlds
I grew up in an Italian home, with parents who had come from Italy and were building a new life in a different country. My childhood was a blend of two worlds.
There was the world outside our home—the schools, the neighbourhood, the music, television, friends, and the rapidly changing culture of the 1960s.
And then there was the world inside our home.
That world smelled like garlic, tomatoes, fresh bread, and Sunday dinner. It was filled with Italian words, strong opinions, laughter, hard work, family traditions, and the unmistakable message that family came first.
Family, food, and faith were the trio served up in our home—not just on Sundays, but throughout our daily lives. They were more than traditions; they were values we lived by.
My parents worked hard. They didn’t complain much. They showed up, kept going, and figured things out.
They also had their own ways of teaching us the rules of life.
Whenever we went somewhere for a visit or an outing, my dad would remind us to stay close and behave ourselves with his favourite expression: “Two feet in one shoe.”
To us, it meant: stay put, don’t wander off, and don’t give your parents a reason to worry.
At the time, it was just something Dad said.
Looking back, I realize it was another little lesson in responsibility, awareness, and knowing how to conduct yourself when you were out in the world.
They taught us about sacrifice without necessarily sitting us down to explain what sacrifice meant. We watched them live it.
They taught us how to cope when things didn’t go our way. They taught us to be resilient, resourceful, and grateful.
At the time, I didn’t realize how much those experiences were shaping me.
I do now.
You Didn’t Need Much to Have a Good Time
One of the things I remember most about growing up in the 60s is how easily we could entertain ourselves.
A bike, a ball, a few friends, and a little imagination could keep us occupied for hours.
We made up games. We explored the neighbourhood. We played outside until someone called us home. Ordinary things could become adventures.
There was no expectation that someone—or something—had to entertain us.
We didn’t have a screen in our pocket telling us what to watch, where to go, or what to do next. Looking back, I think that’s a valuable lesson.
Sometimes having less encourages us to appreciate more.
Learn to be Resourceful
When you had limited resources, you learned to make do. If something broke, you didn’t automatically throw it away and buy another one. You tried to fix it.
If you didn’t know how to do something, you asked someone who did—or you experimented until you figured it out.
In a way, we were ahead of the recycling movement. We reused things because we had to, and we learned that not everything needed to be replaced simply because something newer was available.
Growing up that way taught me that there is usually a way forward if you’re willing to be patient, creative, and persistent. I still find myself relying on that lesson today.
Respect Wasn’t Optional
We were taught to say “please” and “thank you.”
We listened when adults were speaking. We showed consideration for other people. Teachers were generally treated with respect, as were parents, grandparents, and other members of the community.
Of course, people weren’t perfect. There were difficult personalities and disagreements, but there was an expectation that courtesy mattered.
Respect mattered.
Integrity mattered.
You were expected to treat people properly—not because someone was watching, but because that was simply how you were supposed to behave.
That’s a lesson worth holding onto.
Your Word Meant Something
There was also a time when giving your word carried real weight.
If you said you were going to do something, people expected you to do it.
A handshake could be enough.
You didn’t need a written contract for every little commitment.
Being dependable was part of your reputation.
If you said you’d be there, you showed up.
If you borrowed something, you returned it.
If you made a promise, you tried your best to keep it.
It seems simple, but trust is built on simple things.
Your word meant something.
Community Was Our Social Network
Neighbours knew each other.
Children played together. Families visited. People stopped to talk rather than walking past with their eyes fixed on a screen.
There were no cellphones and no social media. Staying connected required a little more effort—and perhaps because of that, those connections could feel more intentional.
Community was our safety net.
People shared. They helped. They checked in on one another.
And in an Italian family, sharing usually involved food.
Food wasn’t just food. It was an expression of love.
You didn’t simply ask, “Are you hungry?” You were fed.Then you were asked if you wanted more.Then you were given more anyway.
There was a sense that we belonged to something larger than ourselves.
We certainly had disagreements and difficult relationships—every generation does—but there was also a feeling that community mattered.
That’s something I think we could all use a little more of today.
Learn to be Patient
We had to wait.
We waited for our favourite song to play on the radio.
We waited for photographs to be developed.
We waited for letters to arrive.
We waited for our favourite television programs to come on.
If we wanted something we couldn’t afford, we saved until we could buy it.
There was no instant gratification.
Waiting was simply part of life.
At the time, I probably didn’t appreciate it. But looking back, I realize that waiting taught us patience—and patience taught us to appreciate things more when they finally arrived.
Not everything had to happen immediately.
Maybe that’s something we’ve forgotten.
Sundays Were Different
I especially miss Sundays.
Sunday had its own rhythm.
There was Mass, food, family, conversation, and tradition.
And the best part of Sunday was waking up to the unmistakable smell of tomato sauce simmering in the kitchen. Before breakfast was even finished, we knew what was coming. And if we were lucky, we got to dunk a piece of fresh bread into the sauce.
That little taste was almost a ritual.
It wasn’t anything fancy. It was just bread and tomato sauce.
But somehow, it tasted like Sunday.
The day seemed to slow down. There was something comforting about knowing that family would gather around the table, the food would be plentiful, and for a little while, the outside world could wait.
We didn’t realize it at the time, but we were creating the memories we would one day become so fond of.
That’s the strange thing about childhood.
You rarely recognize the important moments while you’re living them.
You only understand their value years later.
Looking Back
I wouldn’t say everything was better when I was growing up.
It wasn’t.
There were problems then just as there are problems now. Some things have changed for the better, and I’m grateful for many of the advances we’ve made.
It’s incredible how much the world has progressed since the 60s.
But sometimes I do feel like we lost something valuable along the way.
I miss the simplicity.
I miss the freedom.
I miss the feeling that an ordinary afternoon could turn into an adventure.
I miss being present without feeling the need to document everything.
And I miss the feeling that people were sometimes simply together—with no need for a notification, a photograph, or a post to prove it.
The 60s are long gone now, but they left their mark on me.
Life doesn’t have to be faster to be better.
Life doesn’t have to be louder to be noticed.
Life doesn’t have to be more complicated to be meaningful.
Perhaps the biggest lesson I took from those years is that having fewer conveniences didn’t necessarily mean having less.
Sometimes, having less gave us more opportunities to discover things for ourselves.
More time to imagine.
More reasons to talk.
More opportunities to solve our own problems.
More reasons to depend on one another.
And maybe, most importantly, more opportunities to simply be present.
I realize now that many of the lessons I learned back then still serve me today:
Be kind.
Keep your word.
Work hard.
Appreciate what you have.
Learn to solve your own problems.
Be patient.
Stay connected to your community.
And never underestimate the value of good friends, good neighbours, family, and a little imagination.
Those are lessons that never really go out of style.
And Then There Was the 60s…
Of course, we can’t talk about the 60s without giving an honourable mention to the fashion.
Bell-bottoms. Tie-dyes. Mini skirts.
The decade broke a lot of rules, and fashion became a way for people to express their individuality.
And then there was the music.
Beatlemania, Motown, rock, soul, folk, Woodstock—the music of the 60s wasn’t just something you listened to. It became part of the identity of a generation.
In many ways, it helped start a revolution.
The music, the fashion, the social changes, the new ideas—it was an extraordinary time to be young.
More power to the people.
Can you dig it?
Maybe that’s another thing the 60s taught us:
Don’t be afraid to question things. Don’t be afraid to be different. And don’t be afraid to dance to your own music.
Peace and love,
Antoinette Giacobbe
