WOULD YOU DIE FOR YOUR BELIEFS?
Essay in Progress
The 60’s was a difficult time, on so many levels. Most of the fathers were products of a terrible warn. My father, for example, was in a recovery unit. They were the soldiers who went in after a battle to recover all the bodies. His release papers said one of his assignments was the Battle of the Bulge. The Women’s Movement happened. The Civil Rights Movement happened. And the Vietnam War. American troops killing American protesters. The Beatles. Long hair. Free Love. I was disowned by my father for a short while for buying wire rim glasses (my Buddy Holly glasses were just so heavy). And to my fathers credit, when I came home 2 years later he walked in wearing wire rims! For conservative Irish, my parents showed a great willingness and ability to take on new things.
But to me, the worst of all were the assassinations.
MLK JFK RFK
All men who espoused my own beliefs. People I really admired, especially MLK. I don’t know that he ever spoke a word that I didn’t relate to, agree with. I was pretty outspoken for the product of the catholic school system. Pretty blunt about how I felt about war, politics, and how to treat people. And young. I was 11 when JFK was killed. Sixteen at MLK and RFKs deaths. It was a pretty young age to be dealing with life and murder. Especially contemplating my own.
I was so connected to these martyrs that I felt that if I continued on with my way of thinking and speaking, and got well known for it, I could be next. It wasn’t really a question with me. In my pre-adult thinking, it seemed obvious. And so I was faced with the prospect of continuing on with my 'fight the establishment' attitude and being killed for it, or to shut up, move myself to the background, and keep on living.
I felt very strongly about my views, and it wasn't really about me. I had a good life in the suburbs with a good family. I felt if one person, a group of people where being mistreated by society I had a responsibility to do something about it.
But it didn’t seem right to me that my life would be cut so short, that I wouldn’t get the chance to live and grow and develop, so I took the safe way, maybe the coward’s way. I don’t like thinking about myself that way, but it’s probably true to an extent. Do I regret it? Yes and no, as with most big decisions. It changed my life. I still tried hard to be a good person and do the right thing, I just didn’t put myself out there.
But it’s not over yet, and like the song "Almost Cut My Hair"...
I feel like
I owe it,
To someone.