2021 was a fast year. They do get that way, as you age.
Aging is quite the mystery, in a million measurements. How one looks at time is something they don’t warn you about when you’re young.
2020 was so abnormal, we think it shouldn’t count, except it does. It was one of the ones, of our lifetime. There it was, there it went. And now 2021 is was ‘n went too.
Change Upon Change
As I age, I find myself consciously grateful to be alive. On the flip side, I also find myself becoming consciously uncomfortable in America.
There was a stage, a few decades ago, when America was a living thing, which I lived within. I understood her standards, and her common sense. Mother America was home. I belonged. I fit here.
I thought it would always be that way, that I’d fit even better as I aged. But no, I fit less and less, every year. Probably like my father, and his father, and on back.
There’s a sickness out there, that starts with C, but it’s not Covid – it’s Change. Change is rash and impatient, so many, so much, all at once, it’s like we’re dry heaving, with convulsions of change. It’s a mob of noise, and the loudest voice may be shouting the dumbest idea, but because they’re loud, they’re heard, at least for their 15 minutes of fame.
Ask Not What
Where is our foundation? Things so solid, we never thought about them, like the American work ethic, paying your dues, waiting your turn, now look at them, all up in the air, like great trees wastefully cut, not to build with, but just to run through a shredder.
In my lifetime a president said, “Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country.” Look at us now. We’re a nation full of mooches, asking Mother America for money, all of it pretend money, debt money, to be paid for by Americans yet unborn… Shame on us.
Good Intentions Gone Bad
It seems quaint now, to recall the early innocence of Political Correctness. It was so tame, back when the first President Bush asked us to work towards being a “kinder, gentler nation.”
Nothing wrong with that.
But we’ve run PC through the Frankenstein laboratory, turned it into something dark and twisted. One person being offended negates the free speech of the hundred or thousand – or million – who see it differently, as silly, or petty, or worse, working a lie for selfish gain.
Good American
The good things that are going away, I don’t see them coming back in my lifetime. That’s the cards I was dealt. Just like my parents and grandparents, and every generation before.
But I saw what I saw, an America that was imperfect, but precious, flawed, but ambitious. Some of the best of what I eye-witnessed, is now rare, and headed towards extinction.
So what to do?
I’ll hold my ground. I’ll stand upon my values. I’ll be a good human, and a good American. Maybe somebody younger will notice. Just like I noticed the elders of my youth.
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This edition of Uncle P’s Bedtime Stories is dedicated to appreciating the grace of time, and the gift of being an American citizen.
Copies of Uncle P’s three books, Uncle P’s Bedtime Stories Vol I, Bread Upon the Waters, and Hurricane Laura, are available at Expressions 3100 Ryan Street Lake Charles. Uncle P can be reached at eightyoneantiques@gmail.com. Photos by Vivian Maier.
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