For some reason, I never posted this letter to my grandson, Shane.
Dear Shane, January 22, 2017
I haven’t written a word to you in four years, after writing to you daily for a year and a half. If you are reading this, you will already know about the book I began writing to you when you were three. Christ, you are now all grown up and in the second grade and already eight. My guess is you will not read any of this for at least ten years. While we wait for you, some people will likely be reading this right now. I know it is a mind fuck, but now is not the same for them as it will be for you.
It took me a while to recover from writing Halloween in Portland. I toyed with idea of starting a blog and I eventually did just that and it is called mindandthemotorcycle.com. For some reason, I got away from writing in the voice that felt so comfortable for me in the book. I also started submitting pieces to a local newspaper, ForKauai and had to watch my language and my awful grammar, both on full display in the book. It seemed strange to me to write in a “perfect” language about an imperfect life.
Writing to you has been on my mind ever since you visited with my son, your dad and your mother, around Christmas time. I am feeling much more emotional about getting back to a familiar voice I haven’t used since finishing the book.
One day last weekend, I was home and Biko by Peter Gabriel came on the machine and I began to cry. My love for music will come up periodically, but that is not the purpose of this entry. Sunday is a day I always sat down to write to you, after my motorcycle ride with the Sons of Kauai. Loving symbols, I had to begin this rekindled effort on a Sunday, but it was too soon last week. I have been feeling much more emotional as I inhabit this old way of expressing myself.
The weather totally sucked today and I am getting a cold, but this was the day I had to begin and here we are. Yesterday’s Women’s March made it impossible to put off our first letter. In the book, I wrote to you about the Occupy Movement, which I revisited this morning. Just like now, I felt compelled to share it because I believed it was very important. For a brief moment, the sky lit up and then became dark again.
The causes behind the disruption on Wall Street and elsewhere were about inequality, the powerful and the powerless, the rich and the poor. It had become clear that the system was rigged by the global oligarchy, finally ascending to the throne of limitless power. It took a couple of years to arrange, but the coronation took place last Friday.
Bernie Sanders, the Peasant, provided a voice for those muted and marginalized by a rigged game. Finally, someone found the key to unlock the Beast of Freedom. He spoke to women, threatened by abortion barbarism, tired of being treated unequally. He spoke about the victimization of Blacks and other people of color. He spoke to people struggling to pay their medical bills and kids burdened by usurious student loans. He spoke about our planet being a toy in the hands of a few, using it to stuff their wallets, leaving the rest of us with a polluted and increasingly desolate home. He started drawing huge crowds and young people were being drawn to him, the kindling behind any social fire storm.
Well, there was a fire drill in the halls of power and they put him out of commission and assassinated him politically. Hillary was the perfect foil, simply a more intellectual version of our current Pennsylvania Avenue palace occupant, part of the club and completely uninspiring.
The seeds were planted and yesterday, the beast started coming out of hibernation and you could feel the power in the air. I think we have some exciting times ahead and I am looking forward to sharing it all with you.
Grandpa Larry