Sunday Scribblings this week asks contributors at which place in history we would like to have lived if we weren't living in the here and now. I have to say, it's not something I've ever given much thought to, once I left childhood behind. I do remember pining to live in the Wild West when I was a kid, specifically in the days of "Alias Smith and Jones." [Yes, I am that old.] Of course, at that age, I also very much wanted to be "Lost in Space" or a member of "Swiss Family Robinson." [Watch TV or movies too much?]
I was born in the early 1960's, far too young to have been a part of the peace movement or hippie culture or any of that. Oh, a bit filtered down to us, but really only the making of the peace sign as a way of greeting. The actual participation in all the turmoil was left to those at least 10 years older than me. And while a decade in age difference doesn't seem like that large of a gap when you're pushing 50, it's an entirely different way of life when you're pushing 8.
For the sake of this imagination exercise, I'm going to choose to be a young adult in 1968. Out of all the times in history to choose to live, how do I land there, at a time within my own life? [Too many episodes of "Quantum Leap," perhaps?]
Because I could have been a part of making a difference to the world: fighting for civil rights, fighting to end the Vietnam War, fighting to topple a corrupt president and fighting for a good position at Woodstock. The concept of civil rights filtered down, the music filtered down, the concept of protesting filtered down, and the peace sign filtered down, but I wanted a greater understanding and a greater part of it by the time I was 13. By then, it was nearly all "over."
Interestingly that I now find myself a middle-aged adult pondering those events when similar events swirl around me today.
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