Dreams of the 1960s That Should Never Die

Today is the 40th Anniversary of the death of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

I just got back from a trip to North Carolina. Of the Southern states I've been to, North Carolina and the city of New Orleans are the only places I'd seriously consider moving to in the South. I love the feeling of the Charlotte/Hickory/Shelby areas, where both sides of my parents families lived while they were growing up. (They are originally from Georgia and Tennessee.) My parents never much liked to talk about their family's roots. I never knew if it was because they didn't really know, wanted to break with the past, or didn't want to delve into it since I didn't find out I was adopted until I was 33. Probably the less questions asked, the better.

I remember always traveling down to North Carolina or Tennessee as a kid. I loved leaving Detroit, getting in the car and heading down home, though at times, when I had to take a wee wee, dad wouldn't stop. He was one of those kinds of "gotta test my limits to see how quickly I can make it to the destination with sleep or stopping" dads. You know the kind of dads I'm talking about!

I was in North Carolina in July visiting my father's relatives; this time, I visited my mother's relatives. July was a family reunion at a hotel, so we only went to visit one relative out of town; this time I saw three or four folks, mostly my mom's age, including one of my mother's grade school friends. At almost every home were photographs, or shrines, of sorts to five individuals: Malcolm X, Robert Kennedy, John F. Kennedy, Nelson Mandela, and Martin Luther King, Jr. These relatives were older African-Americans, one a Vietnam veteran. I remember during the 1970s and traveling down there that almost everyone had some picture of the Kennedys and King, at least, somewhere in their homes. I was surprised to find that 40 years later, they still do. It might be different relatives, but nonetheless, the same icons.



Mandela was imprisoned in 1963 and freed 27 years later; King and Bobby were killed in 1968; John F. much earlier in 1963; Malcolm in 1965. One by one, these dreams of the 1960s were picked off, as if a bullet or a jail could actually stop a dream. Boy, where the assholes who pulled these triggers and locked that cell door, wrong.

At times, I get pretty sick of the 1960s and the neverending struggle between conservatives and liberals from that decade constantly at war with each other. They never solve any problems, they just outshout and outdo, the other. I'm pretty tired of it. However, there are some dreams from the 1960s that should never die:

The dream of freedom for the oppressed
The dream of the poor being lifted from poverty
The dream that all men and women are created equal
The dream of human dignity
The dream of ending a meaningless war

Some dreams just can't be stopped with bullets. It might slow down the progress for a bit, but never stop it completely.

If you do just one thing to commemorate King's death, let it be this: take time to revisit the 23:00 minute speech that King gave in his opposition to the Vietnam War at my old work stomping grounds, the Riverside Church in the City of New York. It's powerful stuff and an excellent reminder that sometimes the pulpit is the only place to get a dream out (just ask the pro-lifers...). And sometimes, because no one is quite paying attention, you have to shout, "God Damn America" to get anyone to listen.

Of course, King didn't say those exact words, but he came pretty damned close.

The Crappiest Generation?

Red Tory said...

I’ve always harbored more than a little resentment at “baby boomers” given that I was born in late 1959. It seems I totally missed the boat and have always been riding in their wake. Too young to enjoy/appreciate the youthful liberation of the 60’s, mired in schizophrenic disco/punk world during much of the 70’s when I was attending school. Then hitting a shithole recession just when I was seriously entering the labour market (18%-22% interest rates… give me a break — buying a car or a house was out of the question.) Then having to deal with these smug bastards when they were making off with all the candy in the store during the mid-late 80’s and entrenching themselves in the establishment. To me, they have been and always will be the utterly selfish, self-absorbed “Me generation” and I really believe they’re a huge part of the problem with America these days. To paraphrase Tom Brokaw, they’re “The Crappiest Generation.” No offense intended.

Red Tory left a comment regarding the "Baby Boomers," and it packs a wallop. Having been born in 1959, Red lands in the latter part of the Boomers, and apparently is quite resentful of it! I certainly will conceed all that Red wrote; he's quite articulate and certainly has thought about it long and hard. And no offense taken, I've often thought myself that the Boomers missed their calling because of economic complacency and self-indulgence.

And hey, my 'generation' is hardly any better.

In Boomer formulation, 1964 technically straddles the end of the Boomers and the start of Gen X (a term I hate with a passion) or the Cold War Generation, so maybe I'll rename my blog to ward off further angst!

I started this blog as an exploration of my birth year and current events. So Red, if you think you felt never quite in place at the tailend of the Boom, I feel as if I've been swimming in a sea of complacency and the 'defiance' that supposedly is pinned to the members of Generation X. But having been born at the end of one generation and the very start of another, I've often felt too young for one and too old for the other. Having parents that were Depression-era kids complicates my scenario. My parents' generation did all they could by the books; working hard, keeping their nose out of trouble, and trying not to get stomped by 'the man.' It was more about survival with them, things were easier, except for the constant haunt of racism that dogged their lives for the most part.

1964 was a seminal year (no pun intended), in my opinion (birth or no). It marked a transitional phase in America, at least. The trauma of Kennedy's death in 1963, the end of a certain kind of utopian (if flawed) dream that America was at its youthful best was tragically ended. 1964 brought a new unsteadiness as the country struggled to move forward with a new President, a new way of viewing race, new threats (perceived or real), and a new war brewing. It was the end of one boom but the start of another: a booming world of free love exploration, drug experimentation, countries around the world yearning to break free from colonialism, and a direct confrontation of the older youth of your generation, Red, coming of age and trying to change the world.

I don't know how old my birth parents were when they they joined the Peace Corps and ended up in Pakistan in 1963, but I certainly think that they were influenced by whatever social happenings that affected kids of the older boom generation, the same generation as President Clinton, born in 1946. (Though horror of horrors, President Bush was born in 1946, too, which may blow my hypothesis straight out of the water.) When I think of the Boomers, I like to fantasize about them as an example of the best of the generation: they heard the call of Kennedy's words when he spoke extemporaneously on the stairs of the University of Michigan in 1960:

How many of you who are going to be doctors, are willing to spend your days in Ghana? Technicians or engineers, how many of you are willing to work in the Foreign Service and spend your lives travelling around the world? On your willingness to do that, not merely to serve one or two years in the service, but on your willingness to contribute part of your life to this country, I think will depend the answer whether a free society can compete. I think it can! And I think Americans are willing to contribute. But the effort must be far greater than we have ever made in the past.

Therefore, I am delighted to come to Michigan, to this University, because unless we have those resources in this school, unless you comprehend the nature of what is being asked of you this country can't possible move through the next ten years in a period of relative strength.

My birth parents, in college, heeded this call to reach out to the world, but ultimately, the call was far too great and the effort seems to have failed. The Boomers who heeded the call ultimately wasted their time and energy and became somewhat self-absorbed and materialistic. Clinton became so self-absorded that he gambled it all away on a tryst, and Bush certainly is one self-absorbed motherfucker himself. It's a pity. I wonder what would have happened if something different had occured.

But hey, I'm one self-absorbed Booming Xer myself. Welcome to my generation.