And my generation grew up with the incessant message that ‘the world is going to end before you can make a life for yourself.’ Social security. Nuclear war. Pollution. Economic decay.
That’s the inheritance of the 60s.
Barack Obama, not to drag politics too much into this, is the other face of this generation. One is the slacker who no longer cares. The other is… not hope, no. Rather, refusal to submit. The world may be screwed, but by Henry, we will go down fighting the good fight.
Not the old fight, not the old wars, but a new one.
I think I’ll quote that old liberal now, when asked, “What are you rebelling against?” “Whadda got?”
Yeah. Things were more civil back then. As long as you stuffed your eyes and ears and mouth with cotton.
I hear stories back at the gun club. Talking about construction. Talking about how, when they were building the interstate, men would line up for work, still in their fatigues and boots from WWII, ten years later.
Talking about how they just shot the mexicans in the old days, or hit them with the car, because they were cops and how it’s a shame they got to go through paperwork now.
You want the 50s, buddy, you better remember all of it. If you want me to, I’ll remember it for you.
Ten million men who had survived a war, coming home, changing the country in ways it would never imagine. A thousand factories switching from guns to butter. A culture that was changed from stresses that were put on it in ways it would never imagine.
And for this, you blame the mop-topped Liverpudlians? Hah.