I’ve been stuck recently on feeling that to keep writing the way I do and not pay attention to the world I’m living in is not possible. One of the reasons for steering clear of this turd pile is that there are already an infinite number of people fighting for attention in the marketplace of opinion. Then, I thought of you, my eight year old grandson and what I’d want to tell you about this present time, but in a language you wouldn’t understand until you are a good deal older. Your present vocabulary and level of maturity and comprehension would have no way of dealing with such a total cluster fuck that is this moment. Trust me, I know you are a really bright, young boy, so don’t be offended by my observation when you do end up reading this.
Oh, by the way, the photograph is of you and my son Andy, who happens to be your father. You were at Yankee Stadium, to see the Bronx Bombers beat the Twins in the AL wild-card game on October 2, 2017. Your favorite, Aaron Judge, had a home run in that game. We’ll see if they beat Cleveland, but not this time around. Maybe, I’ll mention it the next time I write, because I intend to make a habit of this.
On October 31, 2011, I started writing my story for you and it ended up being a book, which you learned about recently, because if you are reading this, you have already gotten to Halloween in Portland. Around six years ago, when you were even younger than you are now, I wasn’t sure where the first page would take me. I remember when I sat down for the second time to continue writing, actually thinking there was a possibility I could do it a third time. I don’t know what happened, but at some point, writing became normal and here I am.
The biggest challenge in writing the book was my complete lack of confidence in the future, the world you will be inheriting. We seemed to be stuck in this downward, spiraling trajectory, fueled by a complete lack of concern for consequence. I am not sure why we teach history, with its focus on what happened and not why, a straight line from then until now. It takes the creativity out of prediction, because we have been consistent over the years and I am talking about thousands of years. Each dominant society has grown more proficient at shaping the world to its advantage, speeding up their inevitable demise, one of the many unlearned lessons from history, repeated century after century.
It seemed important to me to try and provide some context for you when it came to discussing events of the day. It was like stepping back from the moment to get a better view of the landscape. There was no point in writing about all that if I was simply going to regurgitate their occurrence. You know, I always keep copies of the book in the trunk of my car to share with friends, but that is as close as I’ve gotten to rereading it. I feel uncomfortable going back, partially because there was a spontaneity about it that has passed.
I have no interest in reading what I had to say about the disappointment of Barack Obama, or our very own manmade, environmental degradation perpetuated by greed, or the whistles blowing to alert us to the twin, train wrecks of oligarchy and theocracy and last but not least, the gluttony of the few and the impoverishment of the many. I am not sure where to fit violence in there and why it is the only way to resolve our differences, an idea that has never, never worked.
Since the book, I have been writing on this blog for nearly three years. I’ve somehow managed to accumulate over one hundred pieces. I have purposely avoided getting sucked into the politics of the time in some bitch fest, because I am not interested in creating any more divisiveness, something we have in abundance today.
We seem to be cracking from within, a kind of decay you see when empires begin to sink under their own weight. Over time, every ruling class suffers from some kind of inbreeding, creating a complete disconnect with the rest of us. Our country is totally controlled by money, it’s their game, it’s their rules. It pretty much took my life time for this to happen and I didn’t see the hijack coming. We have gone from being blissfully naive to deeply jaded and that is sad, from Camelot to crap.
I will be like the soldier, shoveled into his foxhole for the night, surrounded by the explosions of one dumb idea after another. I reach for the tattered pad and half a pencil, always tucked away in the same inside jacket pocket. I will continue writing to you about my experiences on the front line, always picking up where I left off from the foxhole the night before.
There is so much going on and it is time to share it with you.
Love
Grandpa Larry
October 6, 2017