The year nineteen-seventy (1970) began a shiny new decade. It was the Dawning of the Age of Aquarius, which was also the theme for my high school prom and the year I graduated. We would have had our fiftieth reunion this past year if not for Covid.
The Vietnam War was in full swing. Nightly news was full of student sit-ins, protest marches, women’s liberation, Stonewall (1969) and Kent State (1970). As a budding adult, I never participated in anything that turned violent.
The large march I did attend in New York City (1971) involved chanting anti-war slogans and passing around a bottle of Snaups. I felt very grown up. Richard Nixon was president.
I know that not all protests at that time were peaceful and I’m sure some folks wanted to overthrow the government. For the most part it was the PEACE movement, identified by rainbow colors, long hair, pot smoking and lots of sex.
These and many more are the memories that have been swirling around my head as I have been glued to the evening news, appalled at the images of armed rioters storming the halls of our nation’s capitol. If I avert my eyes, it feels like they’ll get away with it, which I know is not true. My first step in extricating myself from the drama is to quit talking about it. I will pass on all the salacious details of arrests that only raise my blood pressure. It’s time to join John Lennon and “Imagine” living life in peace. If only the crazies would stay home!
DOS TORTAS
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