My uncle and aunt, Hank and Es, as they called each other, exemplified the emerging middle class after World War II.

Born during World War I to poor immigrants, they found each other in the early 1950s.

Neither attended college and both worked for the city of Los Angeles, he as a motor pool mechanic and she as a schools secretary.

Living frugally, they were able to buy a modest two-bedroom home, later expanded, in a subdivision spawned by the postwar boom and G.I. Bill loans.

They were among the first to have a backyard swimming pool, where they hosted family barbecues all summer long.

They had no children, but were close to nieces and nephews who considered them second parents.

They retired early, and their savings in government bonds along with city pensions enabled them to travel the world extensively.

Their neighborhood of 40 years was mostly white at first and mostly Hispanic at the end. They got on well with neighbors throughout.

They bought into a beachside retirement community for their final years, and until they died six months apart in 2007 at 89, were debt-free and self-sufficient in handling their long-term care.

They would say they lived the American Dream, a term we seldom hear anymore. The middle class they represented is endangered.

To say their generation benefited from simpler times is too pat.

They had to navigate the complexities of two world wars, the Great Recession, the threat of nuclear Armageddon, the assassination of one president and the disgraced resignation of another.

Out of hardship, they built the greatest era of democratic stability and economic growth, kept the nukes in their silos and sought to spread the wealth by addressing economic, racial and gender inequality — much of which is now being undone.

What was different from today was their sense of group and the notion, however imperfect, of a fair chance for all.

Our country always had a strong vein of individualism, but their generation also believed in the betterment of the group and accepted shared responsibilities for the health of the union.

They believed in working hard both to enrich their own lives and save something for the future to allow their children even better lives.

Now we’ve become a cult of the individual with sharply narrowed acceptance of group. The idea of a rising tide lifting all boats is lost. It’s all zero-sum; if you gain, I lose.

Wealth is concentrated, and the most fortunate claim a right to an even greater share while the fragmented group fights over scraps.

Those left behind are easy targets of political and religious charlatans who say they share our pain, but won’t share the sacrifice needed to heal.

They maintain power by keeping us arguing over which tower we genuflect to — corporate, ivory or Babel.

Nobody has the answer to heal us, but it must start with rededication to the group and commitment to a fair chance for all.

Reach David Shapiro at volcanicash@gmail.com.