My grandfather was a member of the Silent Generation. He inherited a large tract of land from his father in Mississippi. Mostly pecan orchards, but outside the house he grew up on, the land was mostly undeveloped. In my great grandfather's time, the land had been surveyed and was discovered to have oil. So, my great grandfather leased the option to an oil company that ultimately never drilled, but paid a solid monthly stipend. My grandfather took that over with his inheritance.

Now, my grandfather went to war. And when he came back, he got a job. He might've had enough money to live off, but he reckoned a man should work. And so he did manual labor most of his life. Car mechanic, janitorial work, landscaper, that kind of stuff. His kids never wanted for anything, but he was very frugal and refused to spend his money. His kids grew up in the same house he had, his parents had, and their parents had.

When my grandfather died, my father and his sister immediately sold the lands, taking a lump sum from the oil company equivalent to ten years of leasing. That these lands had been in our family since the 1700 meant nothing to them. That that house had seen six generations of our family meant nothing. Between them, they frittered the several million they'd gotten from their inheritance and selling the land until they'd spent it all, and even put themselves into debt.

My brother and sisters were furious and resented our parents for it. Two hundred years of a family legacy sucked dry and lost by greedy boomers. I never saw the use in being angry myself. I bought a tiny plot of land in rural Texas by the sweat of my brow, put a small house on it, and maybe someday I'll be able to buy some more. I'll pass it to my children who hopefully will pass it to theirs until the next generation of boomers is born to destroy it all again.