10 Forgotten Habits From The 1960s That Actually Built Strong Character
Somewhere between rotary phones and TikTok, we lost some things worth keeping. Not the racism, the sexism, or the rigid social hierarchies—those can stay gone. But buried under the bad stuff was a set of everyday habits that quietly built something valuable: character.
Character is an old-fashioned word that’s fallen out of style, mostly because it got co-opted by people who used it to mean “suffering without complaining.” That’s not what it means. Character is the internal architecture that determines how you behave when nobody’s watching, when things get hard, and when doing the right thing costs you something.
The 1960s had plenty of problems. But the decade also produced habits—small, daily practices—that built that architecture in ways our current culture doesn’t. Here’s what we might want to bring back.
1. Write letters by hand
Not emails. Not texts. Actual letters, on paper, in envelopes, with stamps. The kind that took twenty minutes to write and three days to arrive.
The practice built patience and intentionality. You couldn’t fire off a letter in anger and regret it seconds later. The delay between writing and delivery forced you to consider your words. You chose them carefully because you couldn’t edit after sending and you couldn’t pretend the message disappeared.
Research on handwriting and cognition shows that writing by hand engages different brain regions than typing, producing deeper processing and better retention. The practice wasn’t just communication—it was a form of thoughtfulness training that we’ve largely abandoned.
2. Eat dinner together with no distractions
No television. No phones. No eating in shifts because everyone’s schedule is different. The family dinner in the 1960s was a daily ritual where people sat in the same room, ate the same food, and talked to each other.
This built something specific: the ability to engage with people you didn’t choose, on topics you might not find interesting, without an escape hatch. You couldn’t scroll away from your boring uncle’s story. You had to sit there, listen, and respond like a human being.
Family dinner research consistently shows that shared meals predict better outcomes for children across virtually every measure—academic performance, emotional regulation, substance avoidance, relationship quality. The habit was building character whether anyone realized it or not.
3. Wait for things without stimulation
Waiting rooms had magazines and nothing else. Lines at the store involved standing and thinking. Waiting for a friend who was late meant sitting on the porch watching nothing happen.
This built distress tolerance—the ability to sit with discomfort, boredom, and unstimulated time without reaching for relief. Modern life has eliminated almost every opportunity to practice this skill. Every spare moment gets filled with a screen, and our capacity for stillness has atrophied accordingly.
The character benefit was subtle but real: people who can tolerate boredom make better decisions. They don’t act impulsively to escape discomfort. They don’t need constant stimulation to feel okay. They’ve built an internal stability that doesn’t depend on external entertainment.
4. Show up unannounced and be welcomed
The 1960s drop-by visit—just appearing at someone’s door because you were in the neighborhood—required a specific kind of social resilience on both sides. The visitor had to be comfortable with possible rejection. The host had to be comfortable with imperfection. Nobody’s house was Instagram-ready, and nobody expected it to be.
This built flexibility, spontaneity, and comfort with imperfection. It normalized showing up as you are rather than performing a curated version of yourself. Social connection research suggests that casual, unplanned interactions build closeness more effectively than scheduled events, precisely because they require authenticity.
We’ve traded this for a culture where seeing someone requires two weeks of calendar negotiation. The spontaneity is gone, and so is the character it built.
5. Learn a skill from an older person
Fishing from a grandfather. Cooking from a grandmother. Basic carpentry from a neighbor. The 1960s operated on an apprenticeship model for everyday skills, where knowledge passed between generations through shared time and direct instruction.
This built humility and respect for experience. You had to admit you didn’t know something. You had to be patient with someone who taught differently than you learned. You had to value expertise that didn’t come from a YouTube tutorial.
Mentorship research shows that intergenerational skill transfer builds emotional bonds and character simultaneously. The skill itself matters less than the process—the patience, the deference, the relationship built through shared effort.
6. Finish what you started before beginning something new
The 1960s had less choice, which paradoxically built more follow-through. You signed up for baseball, you played the whole season. You started building a birdhouse, you finished the birdhouse. You borrowed a library book, you read the library book.
Modern abundance of options makes quitting easy and consequence-free. Don’t like a show? Switch to another. Don’t like a hobby? Try a different one. The friction of completion has been almost entirely eliminated.
Finishing things—even things you’re no longer excited about—builds psychological grit. It teaches you that motivation is temporary but commitment is a choice. It builds the muscle of following through when enthusiasm fades, which is the actual definition of discipline.
7. Resolve conflicts face to face
There was no texting a breakup. No posting a vague subtweet. No ghosting. If you had a problem with someone, you either talked to them directly or you let it go. The technology didn’t offer a middle ground.
This built courage. Having a difficult conversation while looking someone in the eyes is categorically harder than typing words on a screen. It requires managing your own emotions in real time, reading the other person’s reactions, and staying present when things get uncomfortable.
Conflict resolution skills develop through practice, and the 1960s provided plenty of forced practice. Modern communication tools let us avoid the discomfort entirely, and our conflict resolution abilities have diminished accordingly.
8. Dress with intention, even for ordinary days
People in the 1960s didn’t leave the house in pajamas. This wasn’t vanity—it was a form of respect, for themselves and for the people they’d encounter. Getting dressed was a daily act of preparation, a signal that you took the day and its interactions seriously.
Research on enclothed cognition shows that what you wear affects how you think, feel, and perform. Dressing with intention creates a psychological boundary between rest and engagement. It tells your brain that something is expected of you today.
This isn’t about formality for its own sake. It’s about the character trait of showing up prepared—treating ordinary life as worthy of effort rather than something to sleepwalk through.
9. Say “please,” “thank you,” and “excuse me” constantly
Manners in the 1960s weren’t optional social niceties. They were non-negotiable baseline behavior, drilled so thoroughly that they became automatic. You said please when you asked for something. You said thank you when you received it. You said excuse me when you inconvenienced someone.
The repetition built something beyond politeness: it built awareness of other people’s experience. Every “please” acknowledged that someone was doing something for you. Every “thank you” acknowledged that you’d received something. Every “excuse me” acknowledged that you’d impacted someone else’s space.
These phrases are small acts of gratitude and awareness disguised as social convention. Without them, you can move through an entire day without once acknowledging anyone else’s contribution or existence.
10. Accept that some things just weren’t any of your business
The 1960s had a concept that’s almost extinct: minding your own business. Not everything required your opinion. Not every situation needed your input. Some things happening in other people’s lives were simply not your concern.
This built restraint and respect for privacy. The modern impulse to comment on everything, to have takes on every situation, to weigh in on strangers’ choices—this would have been considered rude and intrusive. You could notice something and choose not to say anything about it.
Social boundary research suggests that respecting others’ privacy and autonomy is foundational to healthy communities. The character habit of restraint—knowing when to speak and when to stay silent—has been largely replaced by a culture that rewards constant commentary.
Nostalgia is a trap when it idealizes the past wholesale. The 1960s were not a golden age. They were a decade of profound injustice, inequality, and suffering that we’ve rightly moved beyond.
But progress doesn’t mean everything old was wrong. Mixed in with the things we needed to leave behind were habits that built genuine character—patience, follow-through, courage, humility, restraint. These aren’t conservative values or liberal values. They’re human values that got lost in the shuffle.
You don’t have to dress like your grandparents or give up your smartphone. But you might try writing a letter, finishing something you started, or sitting with boredom for ten minutes without reaching for a screen. These small practices built something real in people who did them daily. They could build something real in you too.
