got to revolution

I just watched the Ang Lee film about Woodstock. It was a sentimental thing… cute… a worthy occupation of a tired Wednesday evening. Not really a dissertation on history…  but apparently historic themed movies are on my palate of late. Earlier this week I watched some episodes of The Pacific. As I watch the cinematography and the script play out and the costumes delight my fancy, I’ve thought about that history. The history that most of the actors performing these roles weren’t born to witness. And yet, somehow, they convince my brain to contemplate the emotion of prior generations… and impress me with some idealistic view of a time gone by.

I don’t like to wax poetic about the past. It’s pretty at a distance, when the passage of a few decades dulls the blemishes and cracks of the veneer. When the memories linger on the good things and gracefully neglect to recall the shit. But, well, the past was a lot more racist, sexist, dirty, and let’s not forget… hard work. But that said… I don’t know… something about watching these films regarding WWII and Vietnam make me wonder… what’s missing?

I mean, we are at war right now. But… it’s like another movie. Only I see it on the six o’clock news or when I choose to select that link on the BBC… which I seldom do. I know it’s happening. I know there are casualties. I remember that when I go up 128 and see banners on overpasses declaring rest in peace to some fallen soldier. But… it’s not real enough to feel about it. It’s not real enough to do something. 

I’ve always had equal admiration and disdain for hippies. I always liked the clothes… but those protestors spit on my dad. But… my dad joined them a few months later… when he threw away his medals. And protested a war. I didn’t live it, obviously. These are anecdotes that escaped through conversations over the years… but… man, Jesus, he was at least ten years younger than I am now. Those hippies were the age of drunken college students. And they had a concert about peace and love and music. What… what’s happening now?

A generation before that, there was a war that was… well that became more publicly accepted. When that happened, the public didn’t protest. And yet, they rallied. They gave up… sugar, butter, paper, GAS… their lives. Because… well, because they had to.  Because they decided it was the right thing to do.

These are two entirely different scenarios, almost a polar opposite of purpose. And yet… it was a determination of spirit, a gathering of effort, a decision to DO something to make something happen. To make voices heard. Whether it was collecting resources for the war effort or having a concert to show that love was an alternative to war… it happened. It was planned, executed, and wow… we’re still talking about it…

In fantastic movies. Not in inspiration. Not in a determination to pick up the gauntlet of our forbears and do something.

What does one do about the war in the Middle East? Honestly, I don’t know. There were some determined protestors in my town… but I’m not sure if they still are doing it. But… we just don’t care enough to support or protest.

But… maybe that isn’t really the battle we should be picking. Some say that war is about oil. Oil has certainly waged its war on our country in the last two months. Why aren’t we fighting? Why aren’t we rallying? Are we too busy typing Facebook statuses… only to be distracted by the next shiny commentary about a sports playoff? Seriously, people, why don’t we give a fuck? Not even the grown up hippies… who sold out… and raised entitled children…

What am I doing? I’m writing a blog. And that’s hardly anything… 

Maybe I should attempt to really learn something from the history I love so much.  And get off my ass, step away from the computer and really DO something.  Not just write and sigh dreamily about what's already happened.