General Discussion

darned old that I remember that in the 1960s and early '70s, not everyone in my generation subscribed to exactly the same values and beliefs as did the older generation. This actually caused a tad bit of friction -- and I know that you know -- from super tables to the Pentagon. I'll include in school, since when I was in 5th grade, a guy coach beat the shit out of me in an empty hallway after school. He hated my "long hair," bangs a half-inch above my eyebrows.

I was lucky my father wasn't picking me up that day. He surely would have walked me back into that empty hallway, and inflicted more damage. Instead, my older brother came. He was a professional boxer, with longer hair than mine. He had me wait outside. Maybe 15 minutes, he came out, his hair messed up, shirt torn, and one of the biggest smiles in human history tugging on his face. The coach pretended to like me after that, displaying the exact level of cowardice of a man willing to humiliate himself.

(Growing up on a rural family farm in the upstate wilderness, my brothers & I engaged in the debating, arguing, and fighting common among the Feral Irish of the day. It was entertaining to watch big red necks who had no idea who he was to start fights with him. This made him better known, and no sane person wanted to cross him. Soon, as he seemed to be lookinjg for excuses for street fights, we began to ponder: who is the redneck? I loved the guy. He dies of head injuries sustained in fights he won. Our cousin Jim was the head of neurology at Temple, and I appreciated him explaning what was happening along that sad path.)

Now, I boxed from the age of four until my late teens. Every generation of the family had at least one boxer. I fought 329 bouts, on "bootleg," club, AAU, and professional cards. I only lost 9 fights, and reversed three of those. I was feaured in a top boxing magazine at age 13. Thus, though I try to be & do better, at my advanced age, I still have supreme confidence in my own thinking. I had consider suing Howard Cosell for a quote on the back of his best book: "Arrogant, pompous, obnoxious, vain, cruel, verbose, a sow-off. I have been called all of these. Of course, I am." Immediately, upon reading these words, I identified. I decided not to sue, only because the book was published before awakening to what an ass I was!

Yes, I do remember those years. I remember smoking pot with Abbie Hoffman. Spending an evening talking with Angela Davis. Playing (once) with David Peel & the Lower East Side Gang. Sit-ins. Monkey warfare. And wondering how two of my BCI Senior Investigators seemed to know how much I was doing? My father and his 13 siblings were first generation. That meant more law enforcement/intelligence in one generation than the non-Irish families experienced at the time.

Thus, my father told me I could no longer be friends with Rubin "Hurricane" Carter any more. Again, teens at that time didn't always follow the rules. This, despite my father telling me he could tell Rubin was a murderer by just looking at him. In a short time, I was working with Rubin's defense. The guy he was accused of being confessed on his death bed. Rubin and I were close friends until his death. I could list quite a few things that Rubin & I worked on in his "second life."

I've done legal work for the Onondaga Nation's Council of Chiefs. Served as Chief Waterman's top aide for decades. Worked on environmental projects for decades. I found page 100,556 was missing in the documents the government made public on a case that found its way to federal court. I did a successful hunger strike per an important environmental case a few years back, when a state mobster, er, senator (he died before his appeal was heard) refused to meet with environmental leaders.

I think activism comes in many forms. I think the numbers of people attending rallies and contacting elected representatives is a good thing. But there needs to be a step up now. And that, in the opinion of myself and others, that it us old people that have to put the tactics of Gandhi and King into practice. We know there are shit-stirrers looking to try to be tricky and lead us all astray. But talking about the White Album, Nixon, and the absolutely cool things we did isn't the lesson we need to teach by putting into practice. Sitting-in on the front line. Risking the ER, jail, or the cemetery. That is a fucking huge responsibility. It's a fucking lot to ask of old people.

Bloody Christ, we all have aches and pains from our youthful adventures. They came back to visit us between the ages of 35 and 40, and then moved back into our bodies full fucking time at the age of 50. It's not like they even contribute on the rent! Arthritis is a free-loader, making us pay the medical bills they cause! I say kick arthritis clear out of the Democratic Party!

And what of the children? Especially all of our grandchildren. And all of the Faces of the Next Seven Generations coming up through the ground. I want to teach my grandchildren that gardening is a spiritual experience. But at this time, there is something else we need to do for them, because of how much we love them.