Reading about and participating in recent town hall meetings, one thing is very clear. Two things, actually.
First, people are extremely riled up about the clown show in Washington. And not funny clowns; more like the one in Stephen King’s 1986 novel, It, featuring Pennywise, an evil entity disguised as a clown. (I have not read the book. While I admire King, I am not a fan of that genré).
Second, most of the people at these meetings have graying hair, at least at the two that I have attended this past month. That may reflect the demographics of the rural area where I live; news coverage of rallies and similar meetings in urban areas show more younger people.
Still, it is evident that much of the protest against the fascist minority trying to steal our government is coming from older people. At the town hall meetings, gray-haired people took turns at the microphone expounding on their fears and concerns about the current assault on our society, its politics, culture, and economy.
They listed services either being cut or threatened – Medicare, Medicaid, Social Security, veterans’ services, Supplemental Nutritional Assistance Program, the Farm to School food program. At one meeting a middle-aged woman told her story with two artifacts: a piece of shrapnel that struck her military vehicle while serving in Iraq, and the Post-It note she found one morning stuck to the computer screen saying was fired from her job with the Veterans’ Administration.
On April Fool’s Day, U.S. Senator Cory Booker, age 55, made fools of everyone younger showing his courage and stamina to speak for 25 hours against the assault by autocrats, oligarchs, fascists, billionaires, and the former reality TV show host who exhibits a pathological personality and character. As a former long-distance runner and skier, I can barely comprehend Booker’s stamina. Of course, it was greatly fueled by his passion.
“I may be tired and a little hoarse, but as I’ve said again and again, this is a moment where we cannot afford to be silent,” Sen. Booker writes in an email sent April 2. “We must speak up… I am filled with hope… history will show we rose to meet this moment… that we did not let the chaos and division go unanswered… that when our president chose to spread lies and sow fear, we chose to come together, to work together, and to rise together.”
That is what it takes, and passion was very evident in the voices of speakers at the town hall meetings. At times their voices quavered with emotion as they described examples and fears about federal budget cuts in food assistance, health care, and education. If only there had been more younger people present to hear and see that.
We read that in the 2024 election fewer younger people voted compared with 2020. My fear is that too many may have been like the young man I passed by walking toward the coffee shop the other day. I made eye contact and planned to say ‘hi’ (it’s a small town). He seemed to consciously avert his eyes down, looking at his phone. I sometimes forget how scary old people can look to younger people. In the parking lot his vehicle, a VW Beetle, sat idling (again, a small town).
That is one complaint you often hear from older people: All these young kids always looking at their phones! That is a bit exaggerated, of course. Many are involved in their work, school, friends and families. Social media is an ever-present and powerful means of communication, even for many old people. Generalizations have their limits, but statistics do show a decline in voting among the so-called Gen Z (30 and under).
This has raised a metaphor in my thoughts, of old war horses carrying the young into battle, but will they fight? I wondered about that several weeks ago, standing along the main thoroughfare in our town along with about 300 mostly older people, holding signs protesting the assault on our political order. A few days later along with several thousand we did so at the state Capitol. Demographically that was a more balanced crowd, which was encouraging. They showed great creativity in their home-made signs.
The last time I recall participating in a street protest occurred in 1972 along Cedar Avenue in Minneapolis. The Vietnam War raged and divided the country. The protest erupted when the public learned about a covert bombing campaign over Cambodia. Soon after there was Watergate, resulting in Richard Nixon’s resignation in 1974.
Today the consequences of inaction will affect all generations, and for a generation to come. My advice to the old, live in the moment, protest and raise hell. To the young, leaven the moment: Seek the leavening of wisdom to avoid doing stupid things you will regret later, like not voting in the next election. With the town hall meetings, rallies, Senate filibusters, and encouraging election returns such as the Wisconsin State Supreme Court, I see hope that we can recover.
