Thursday, August 02, 2007
Remembering the Sixties
Yesterday I had the privilege of presenting Civil Rights training to staff in one of our offices. It made me think of the civil rights struggles of the sixties. The lunch counter sit-ins, the freedom riders, the bloody crossing of a bridge and Bull Connor, the bombing of a Birmingham church and death of four young girls inside, all the marches including the “I have a Dream” march on Washington. The material I shared at training included hate calls to a young college athlete marrying his fiancee of a different racial heritage, the racial divide over Barry Bonds and housing discrimination in Montana. Civil rights protests of the 50's and 60's achieved a lot, but there are still a lot of hearts and minds that still bear prejudice.
I was seven years old when the sixties began. I remember the presidential election of 1960. My parents had portraits of the two candidates in a tri-fold with President of the U.S.. printed in the middle. You could turn the folder to show your preference and obscure the other candidate. Our parents had Kennedy prominently displayed. I remember some church member expressing surprise we were supporting a Roman Catholic. Funny, how that isn't even a concern now. What promises of hope that administration projected at the start of the decade. I remember our family listening half the night to the returns on our radio and going to bed knowing JFK would win although the numbers still lagged at the time.
I remember meeting both George McGovern and Robert Kennedy in Pine Ridge. I had been putting up posters for Gene McCarthy and favored him for the presidency, but also had put up re-election posters for McGovern as Senator. South Dakota's primary was the first Tuesday in June, the same as California. The next day Bobbie would be shot in LA by Sirhan Sirhan, the nation's first awakening to radical Arab/ Muslim influence.
Those years I regularly read Time magazine every week and watched Walter Cronkite on the nightly news. I remember the daily body county from Viet Nam. We had friends who went to the south to march for civil rights, register voters and otherwise be involved. I remember a black pastor from Florida coming to stay with us and visit churches on the reservation. I also remember seeing the bohemian when we traveled to the east early in the 60's and later the flower children in Berkeley. I read about the summer of love in '67 and Woodstock in '69. Later I would see the movie the same day as our senior party on the Niobrara River. I didn't have any exposure to psychedelics or even marijuana until '71, but I did learn to make home brew using various ingredients available as commodities to the native population, dandelions and bread yeast. I spent the day hitchhiking and drinking homemade wine when Buzz Aldrin took his “one small step for man and a giant leap for mankind.”
I turned 17 as the decade ended and Nixon was president. He recovered from his defeat in 1960 and again was defeated in his race for Governor of California in 62. Yet in between those years the Vietnam War escalated, Reagan was elected Governor of California we had three assassinations that rocked the country as well as an escalation of racial tensions with riots in the second half of the sixties.
Those events I experienced as a child of the sixties have influenced my entire life. Values of equality, the need to work for justice and fairness for all. Also questioning the dominant culture and an appreciation for other cultures, those of the Lakota, the African-American and those who sought a better life for all.
And how about the music, Dylan, the Byrds, the Beatles, Jefferson Airplane, Janis and Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison, but that is another day and another blog.
Yesterday I had the privilege of presenting Civil Rights training to staff in one of our offices. It made me think of the civil rights struggles of the sixties. The lunch counter sit-ins, the freedom riders, the bloody crossing of a bridge and Bull Connor, the bombing of a Birmingham church and death of four young girls inside, all the marches including the “I have a Dream” march on Washington. The material I shared at training included hate calls to a young college athlete marrying his fiancee of a different racial heritage, the racial divide over Barry Bonds and housing discrimination in Montana. Civil rights protests of the 50's and 60's achieved a lot, but there are still a lot of hearts and minds that still bear prejudice.
I was seven years old when the sixties began. I remember the presidential election of 1960. My parents had portraits of the two candidates in a tri-fold with President of the U.S.. printed in the middle. You could turn the folder to show your preference and obscure the other candidate. Our parents had Kennedy prominently displayed. I remember some church member expressing surprise we were supporting a Roman Catholic. Funny, how that isn't even a concern now. What promises of hope that administration projected at the start of the decade. I remember our family listening half the night to the returns on our radio and going to bed knowing JFK would win although the numbers still lagged at the time.
I remember meeting both George McGovern and Robert Kennedy in Pine Ridge. I had been putting up posters for Gene McCarthy and favored him for the presidency, but also had put up re-election posters for McGovern as Senator. South Dakota's primary was the first Tuesday in June, the same as California. The next day Bobbie would be shot in LA by Sirhan Sirhan, the nation's first awakening to radical Arab/ Muslim influence.
Those years I regularly read Time magazine every week and watched Walter Cronkite on the nightly news. I remember the daily body county from Viet Nam. We had friends who went to the south to march for civil rights, register voters and otherwise be involved. I remember a black pastor from Florida coming to stay with us and visit churches on the reservation. I also remember seeing the bohemian when we traveled to the east early in the 60's and later the flower children in Berkeley. I read about the summer of love in '67 and Woodstock in '69. Later I would see the movie the same day as our senior party on the Niobrara River. I didn't have any exposure to psychedelics or even marijuana until '71, but I did learn to make home brew using various ingredients available as commodities to the native population, dandelions and bread yeast. I spent the day hitchhiking and drinking homemade wine when Buzz Aldrin took his “one small step for man and a giant leap for mankind.”
I turned 17 as the decade ended and Nixon was president. He recovered from his defeat in 1960 and again was defeated in his race for Governor of California in 62. Yet in between those years the Vietnam War escalated, Reagan was elected Governor of California we had three assassinations that rocked the country as well as an escalation of racial tensions with riots in the second half of the sixties.
Those events I experienced as a child of the sixties have influenced my entire life. Values of equality, the need to work for justice and fairness for all. Also questioning the dominant culture and an appreciation for other cultures, those of the Lakota, the African-American and those who sought a better life for all.
And how about the music, Dylan, the Byrds, the Beatles, Jefferson Airplane, Janis and Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison, but that is another day and another blog.
