(Note: Watch Paul and George move to look over John's shoulders)
At this time of upheaval and change, I’ve been thinking about events that shaped modern America. Psychologist Erik Erickson writes the 8th Life Cycle is to reflect on one’s legacy.
When I was younger, so
much younger than today, I never needed anybody's help in any way (The Beatles,
Help).
My awareness began
with Kennedy’s assassination. Whether it’s remembered or conceived, my earliest
memory is JFK’s funeral.
The bullet threads the
1960s including the deaths of Martin Luther King, Bobby Kennedy, Malcolm X,
four Kent State students, and 58,220 causalities associated with the Vietnam
Conflict.[1] Despite living in the
shining city on the hill, violent death accompanied our youth.
As Vietnam ended, the
corruption of Richard Nixon and Watergate watered the seeds of cynicism and
mistrust toward government and each other. We stumbled from Ford to Carter amid
malaise and gas lines towards a new day in America.
But now these days are
gone I'm not so self-assured.
In 1980 Beatle John
Lennon was murdered. We couldn’t imagine that the Dreamer had died. Our dreams
of a better world withered.
Although Iran Contra
exacerbated declining trust, the Berlin Wall came down, the Soviet Union
collapsed, and democracy expanded in Eastern Europe. For a while, we “danced on
the wall.”
The late 80s
contrasted the collective hopes of Live Aid, Farm Aid, and starting families;
against the devastation of crack cocaine, gangs, and AIDS.
Meanwhile, supermarket
tabloids out- sold newspapers and created the conspiracy industry. Society was
warped by celebrity and reality tv including a White Bronco, Kardashians,
televised preachers, and Jonestown. We gasped as credible reports of pedophilia
were lodged against Michael Jackson, myriads of Catholic Priests, Olympic and football
physicians, and the Franklin Credit Union investigation.
Then came cable’s 24/7
news cycle and the pithlessness of ‘gotcha politics.’
I was at the Ranch
Bowl when images from Paris depicted a mangled Mercedes and death of a
Princess. For a while, hope turned to tragedy.
On September 11th the
nation was instantaneously transformed and once again we wept. The nation
quivered between anger and fear as the War on Terror took American troops to
Afghanistan, Iraq, and eventually Pakistan.
And now my life has
changed in oh so many ways.
Somehow, it seemed,
through the fault of no one in particular, we changed. The rapid pace of technology
brought out the best and worst of us. Favor towards marriage equality moved
quickly while pluralism turned some towards bitterness and resentment.
Help me if you can,
I'm feeling down.
On January 6th,
President Trump’s failed coup defined him, his followers, and national politics.
The world looked on in horror as Americans held their breath. Sandwiched
between ideological divides, everything became political. Otherwise mundane
medical issues such as masks and vaccines were woven into shadowy caverns of
conspiracies fed by manipulative news outlets, feckless blogs, and social
media.
My independence seems
to vanish in the haze.
All the while our kids
grew up, little league games gave way to graduations and diapers. Full houses
downsized to empty nests and the America Dream teetered on nightmares of
division, unfettered anger, entitlement, and identity politics. And yet we
prayed for our kids and pondered the society we’ll bequeath them.
What is our legacy?
Are we defined by fear
and anxiety, a $28 trillion dollar monument to mismanagement, and manipulated
societal division? TV depicts street altercations with spilled blood and tear
gas while apologists line up to excuse insurrection and lies. Strangely, we fund
charities and readily assist after natural disasters while too many refuse to
act toward the common good.
Now I find I've changed
my mind and opened up the doors.
When I look for
leadership, I am drawn to Dr. Fauci who side-stepped politics to navigated a pandemic, Congresswoman Liz Cheney
for punching a bully in the nose, and Senator Amy Klobuchar for articulating
Midwestern common sense while others spewed deceit or complied with silence.
Help me get my feet back on the ground.
What pride should
dwell in this, our legacy?
I am inspired watching
a palsied student willing his uncooperative body towards class, or watching the
sunrise over Iowa’s bluffs bringing the unwritten day. Friends and colleagues
offer kindness while my wife steadies our home. But my greatest hope comes from
our children and students who remain nonplussed by American pluralism.
I know that I just need you like I've never
done before. Won't you please, please help me?
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