A couple of days ago a friend sent me a link to a lately released Dylan song, ‘Murder Most Foul.” You can find it on You Tube.
The first of several signal tragedies or crimes for the generation that is still here sheltering in place—my elderly cohort —was the Kennedy assassination (the first Kennedy assassination). Listening to it will lead to ruminations. I’ll leave you to your own and not insert mine here.
The friend who sent the link is almost as old as I am, and like me experienced Berkeley in the late 60s, the Beatles’ last concert at Candlestick, marches down Market street. He went to the human be-in. I didn’t. If I get a chance to teach 18 year olds at Berkeley again this fall, how can I sketch the seriousness of now without infecting even more despair and terror than some of them must feel? Or can they have fun and hope in the midst of horror, as we did in the midst of a triple assassination, the draft, the war, children bombed in the South? Should we trust they will find their own way through this?
Here’s a quote from The Uninhabitable Earth:
“Fifteen percent of all human experience throughout history, it’s been estimated, belongs to people alive right now, each walking the earth with carbon footprints.”
The carbon footprint part is alarming of course. But the other part—the it’s all about us part. I don’t think we as a group of generations are interesting enough to take up so much damn space in history, frankly.
Unless we can do something to deserve it. What on earth might that be?