How did I (we) get here?
my childhood political journey from the 60's, to my reality and hope today
I’m six, in my pajamas on the couch at my grandparents, on a school night, almost asleep. Dad and his brothers burst into the room. He is smiling, such a big smile. He holds his right hand up and points. “This hand shook hands with JFK.” He beamed. It must have been September 7, 1960. Kennedy gave a campaign speech at the Multnomah Hotel in Portland that evening.
The principal makes an announcement over the intercom, “The president has been shot!” It’s November 22, 1963. We look to our teacher. She gasps. Fear and confusion perked. The teacher said a few words and pulls a small black and white TV out of the closet (I later heard she watched a soap opera at lunch time). We sit in dazed confusion. Later the lunchroom rumbles with stories of Russian spies and something about Catholic kids leaving school early. When I get home Mom is on the couch focused on the TV. I sit with her. We silently watch TV news for days.
1964, I’m ten, at my other grandparent’s, in the garage attic with my Uncle Ed (he is three years older than me). We are listening to the Beach Boys on 45’s. He shows me an LBJ sticker on an overhead beam. He tells me a joke about Goldwater being what Johnson flushes down the toilet.
1968, I’m in eighth grade and know that I am a Democrat, I guess because my family members are Democrats. Mr. Barker was my U. S. History teacher. I learned that what makes us, the U. S. A., unique is that we have no kings, no one is above the law.
Viet Nam is raging and I have no interest in being drafted, sent to war. My Dad, who served in the Navy, has made it clear his sons will not go to this war. MLK was assassinated in April. The war drags on and riots break out across the country. A family friend, who happens to be in law enforcement, visits our home and shows me riot gear in the back of his car.
In late May I ride my bike with friends, to Rockwood Plaza to see Robert F. Kennedy give a campaign speech, from the back of a convertible. After school I go with friends to a local campaign office. Pick up bumper stickers and buttons.
Within a few weeks we have our annual family reunion, Mom’s family, in Toledo Washington. Aunt Babe is wearing a McCarthy scarf around her neck. I eavesdrop on adult political banter. Within days the news of RFK being assassinated fills the air.
October 15, 1969, I skipped school, rode the city bus alone the ten miles to downtown to march in the Moratorium to End the War in Vietnam. Thousands crowded the streets, shoulder to shoulder, chanting and cheering. My dad supports my efforts and writes an excuse for school. The office rejects it and counts me as “skipped.”
In the spring of 1972, I join others from my high school and students from a multi-state region, at a Mock Democratic Convention at the Memorial Coliseum. We work at replicating what is coming to Miami in the summer. Our school represented Illinois. I remember huddling at a pay phone on the concourse with Jeff and Des. Des gets through to Mayor Dailey of Chicago, the actual Mayor Daily, and asks who we should support for president. Daily says he trusts us to make the best decision.
1972 I am a member of the first generation of eighteen-year-olds to have the right to vote. I choose to believe I voted for McGovern; I do not have a clear memory of the moment.
1973, maybe winter or spring. I give a rough speech in my community college Speech class railing about the Watergate Break-in. I had thin information, but knew it was a fiasco.
September 8, 1974, Ford pardons Nixon. Something breaks within me. This is an exact contradiction to all that I learned from Mr. Barker. In the depth of my heart, I know Nixon should have faced the full legal process. Since that day I have struggled to say the Pledge of Allegiance (and I have worked in public schools). If I do say it, I go silent at “liberty and justice for all.”
The next fifty years brought the Iran Contra scandal, Reaganomics, the Religious Right, endless wars, hanging chads, 911, the election of a black president, the banking crash, MAGA, Covid, impeachments, Black Lives Matter and more.
I wake each new morning to news that should be mindboggling. Now in 2026 greed, graft, reckless disdain for the law, hatred, prejudice, and bullying have become the hallmark of many in political leadership.
Mr. Barker taught me the power of America was that all would be held to the same law. In the face of such previously unimagined backward movement I hold hope that this is still true, that we the people will hold our ground, pull together, and that liberty and justice for all will break through once again, actually, maybe for the first time.
Thanks for reading.
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