Still Marching

I went on my 3^rd protest march of the month and once again, noticed that most of the heads were grey and the people marching alongside of me might have been next to me in Washington DC in 1969. Where are the young people? I’m missing them, for sure. 

 

Amongst the many ways I’m astonished that we are where we are, top among them was my sure-fire conviction over 50 years ago that we young people were going to turn things around. First on the list was to stop the war in Vietnam, but close on its heels was more civil rights for black Americans, women’s rights, ending homophobia, living in greater harmony with nature, more organic food and plant-based diets, legalizing marijuana, more art and music and theater and yoga and meditation, more cultural focus on quality of life than quantity of money and the big two-car garage house in a sterile suburb. And even in the act of writing that list, it’s clear we accomplished a lot!!!! 

 

At least in my world, a woman can introduce her wife to me at a party, a man his husband, without batting an eye. When I ask an alum school parent what their son is up to, they tell me what she’s doing. My daughters both played basketball and are Lake-Wobegon-strong. One daughter was allowed to marry a black man, the other goes camping most every weekend and has to reserve in advance because the parks are so full of nature-lovers. Marijuana is now legal, the military draft ended and we have not been involved in a major war since Vietnam (a place where I just taught a workshop and tourists frequently come to visit). Farmers markets abound in every city, as do yoga studios and Zen Centers. In short, we made a difference.

 

And yet. Here we are back out on the streets again trying to protect so much progress being back-pedaled to the Stone Ages by cruel billionaires and ignorant voters. It is tempting to think that all we dreamt of, all we worked for, all we lived for, didn’t amount to hill of beans. And here we are yet again, trudging up that hill with our fellow septuagenarians and octogenarians wondering, “What the hell happened? How did we go wrong?”

 

But here’s another point of view. When I was 22, everyone predicted we all would “sell out to the Establishment” by the time we reached 30. But we didn’t. Sure, we bought dishwashers and remodeled our kitchens and invested in retirement funds and some went on cruises, but all in all, the folks that I know my age have kept their values and ethics and morals and determination to live decent and healthy lives intact. And to create and protect the conditions that allow others to do so. As the marches testify, we all still care.

 

That counts for something. In spite of all evidence to the contrary, our hope still burns. If not brightly, at least enough to bring a little light into the darkness. So see you at the next march. And young people, please join!!