In 1968, I was 16. In 1969, I went to college - the University of Michigan - and got blown away by marches, strikes, movements, factions, splinter groups, but most of all by the shock of realizing that my country wasn't what I thought it was. I also thought we were at the start of something. It's hard to explain how thoroughly that pervaded everything I thought and did. I dropped out of college, partly because of money concerns, but a lot because I couldn't figure out what course of study made sense. I mean, I refused to even consider the sciences because I was convinced that the only thing I could do with a degree in geology was either teach or be employed by mining companies; chemistry would land me in a lab making new and better napalm, et cetera. Of course, I was wrong about that, too. But I'm just telling you how it looked to me.
To borrow a phrase from back in the day, when the train of history rounded a curve in 1968, 1969, and 196X, I fell off. The repercussions still rattle my brain. I'm not headed toward retirement; I'll be working until I'm dead. Unlike, say, Bernardine Dohrn, I was never a player, and I was wimpy on armed struggle. But eventually she turned herself in and went to law school, and basically resumed the trajectory she was born to follow.
I didn't. I'm not sure I ever felt that sense of entitlement, or maybe I lost it when I fell off the train. The Greatest Generation still hates us, and the following generations tend to think we're all resource-sucking narcissists. I didn't see that last part coming.
It's hard for me to imagine being able to help some young activist-progressive. But it's also hard for me to avoid knowing that if I'd had a little direction or help, maybe I could have done better, in terms of my own life as well as helping others.
Boomers to the Barricades
In 1968, I was 16. In 1969, I went to college - the University of Michigan - and got blown away by marches, strikes, movements, factions, splinter groups, but most of all by the shock of realizing that my country wasn't what I thought it was. I also thought we were at the start of something. It's hard to explain how thoroughly that pervaded everything I thought and did. I dropped out of college, partly because of money concerns, but a lot because I couldn't figure out what course of study made sense. I mean, I refused to even consider the sciences because I was convinced that the only thing I could do with a degree in geology was either teach or be employed by mining companies; chemistry would land me in a lab making new and better napalm, et cetera. Of course, I was wrong about that, too. But I'm just telling you how it looked to me.
To borrow a phrase from back in the day, when the train of history rounded a curve in 1968, 1969, and 196X, I fell off. The repercussions still rattle my brain. I'm not headed toward retirement; I'll be working until I'm dead. Unlike, say, Bernardine Dohrn, I was never a player, and I was wimpy on armed struggle. But eventually she turned herself in and went to law school, and basically resumed the trajectory she was born to follow.
I didn't. I'm not sure I ever felt that sense of entitlement, or maybe I lost it when I fell off the train. The Greatest Generation still hates us, and the following generations tend to think we're all resource-sucking narcissists. I didn't see that last part coming.
It's hard for me to imagine being able to help some young activist-progressive. But it's also hard for me to avoid knowing that if I'd had a little direction or help, maybe I could have done better, in terms of my own life as well as helping others.
Barricades. OMG.