Tough Times These Are . . . My Thoughts on Moving Forward

Tough times, eh?

Layoffs by the tens of thousands.

A stock market approaching freefall, the dreaded R word, recession, being whispered in the hallowed halls of Congress, as well as Mike’s Barber Shop in Des Moines.

Deportations threatened and exercised.

The dollar weakening by the day, prices of essentials skyrocketing, homelessness increasing, need I continue?

Freedoms tossed aside, paved over like yesterday’s street grime.

And yet those aren’t the worst things to consider.

Americans seem to have lost their hope, lost their fight, and lost their way.  They don’t seem to know what to do. Their foundation is crumbling, they don’t know who to turn to hell, they don’t even know which news is real and which is fake.

It truly breaks my heart to see the sadness, the fear, the insecurity all around me, which brings me to this question: what are we going to do about it?

I still vividly remember the 60’s. I’ve written about them often, the decade when I made the journey from teen to young adult. I have written how I was in awe during that decade, how it seemed like something monumental, something vital and energized, happened daily. Most times, if not all, I wrote with a sense of wonder for it really was a decade of events, of accomplishments, of firsts, and I am so grateful I came of age during those ten years.

However, lost in the reverie is the darkened view of those ten years, the assassinations, the beatings in the streets, the horrors of a war nobody seemed to want except for the Pentagon, the lost friends, the erosion of the American Dream, the shootings of college students, the hangings of blacks, the beatings of blacks, the stacked economic deck against most minorities, the protests turned violent, the fire-bombings, the first utterance of the term “mass murderer,” the explosion of the drug trade, a corrupt President, corrupt politicians, political coverups, unspeakable acts by the CIA, the disregard for the law by the FBI, the chiseling away at the Bill of Rights, at the very foundation of The Constitution.

Sound familiar?

I’m going to share with you now how my friends and I managed to graduate from the 60’s with our sanity intact.

When sadness threatened to overcome us, when anger threatened to corrupt our souls, when reality threatened to destroy all our dreams, we turned inward, to our communities, to our neighborhoods, to our friends and families, and we rebuilt our own vision of America in grassroot movements, through block parties, at community gardens, working at local aid centers. We made America great again, rebuilding it from the ground up, working together, and in so doing we remembered what it was we loved about this country from the first day of conscious thought . . . the people!

We, the people, in order to form a more perfect Union . . .

We remembered what those words meant. We did not rely on the government to explain it all to us. We did not see America through profit-stained glasses but rather through glasses which only saw one color, only recognized a standard of law which applied to every single person, gave more importance to what a person could do for the good of their community, no matter their religion, no matter their sexual preferences, no matter their economic status.

I am not saying for one moment we all lived happily ever after once 1970 rang in a new decade of promise, for we did not. I am not saying Pollyanna ruled supreme once a Presidential resignation occurred and I am not saying the vision King saw, from his mountaintop, came into clear focus.

I am simply saying we survived by relying on our friends, our family, our neighborhood, and our community.

Surely, there are those who will say these are different times, these 2020’s, and the past has no bearing on today.

I would say those people are entitled to their opinions no matter how wrong they may be.

Pax Vobiscum

Bill