By Pam Bloom

Dear Neighbor,

I find it interesting to observe liberals in my age group — Boomers. Most of us grew up being pretty well versed in history, civics and current events. And if you were lucky, you grew up in a family of storytellers and parents who believed children should be seen and heard and you were included in the discussions. Here’s my unscientific take about why many of the seniors I know are still politically active and trying to save the America we love.

We grew up knowing people who survived the Depression, who pulled together as a nation and were forever changed. People who served during war, both overseas and stateside. Friends and family who lost loved ones during the War to End All Wars and then again during WWII. We heard those stories firsthand and still have memories of those meaningful conversations. If we were paying attention, we observed perseverance, resilience and hope. And we knew to never forget if faced with the threat of tyranny and oppression. 

Sadly, we were living with unacknowledged oppression. We grew up as active participants during Jim Crow laws. That was our childhood. A childhood of something called equal but separate, and whether we thought it normal or strange, it was just how we lived. That separation of seating and water fountains and schools and housing and basic rights built walls that still leave shadows today. 

Speaking of walls, I thought the Berlin Wall on the news would surely keep us safe from all the communists. If you weren’t watching the news as a child, you were watching cartoons like “Rocky and Bullwinkle.” We were well acquainted with Boris and Natasha, the evil duo that were not to be trusted. The fear of communism was all too real with nuclear drills and hiding under your desks at school and neighbors building bomb shelters that weren’t large enough to include anyone outside their family. My late husband, who was a child in Florida during the Cuban Missile Crisis, stood outside and watched as tank after tank rolled down the highway. The threat of nuclear war was a constant.

As a child, I sensed that bad things were happening but I don’t think I realized anything was alarmingly wrong, except nuclear bombs, until JFK was assassinated. Maybe that was when the national news and the tension in the country became real in my life. I knew we were fighting the communists. I was confused about why other people were dying, even little girls close to my age in Birmingham. I looked to my parents for clues about how to feel about the evening news, about this Civil Rights Movement. I began to observe a change in my home, my community and my nation. I watched adults changing and growing and also watched adults who refused to accept a changing world. Once again, my generation saw that the people could bring positive change. 

Vietnam was our war. We knew people who died there, enlisted to go there for patriotic reasons and came home to warn others not to go. We experienced the changing tide as the war endlessly continued. We stopped trusting the government as the draft lottery was implemented for fresh soldier fodder, as many fled to Canada, as college students were shot at Kent State for protesting, as the My Lai massacre unfolded, and then Cambodia and more subterfuge. Once again, the people affected change and some of us had become part of “those people.”  

Then with Nixon and Watergate we became cheerleaders for freedom of the press because we had seen how a free press protects us from an overreaching state.

To end without even touching women’s rights and bra burning or a functioning Congress or other iconic moments; many of my generation are the woke liberals determined to maintain a democratic republic for our grandchildren. We show up with our signs and our tie dye and our ire and our protest songs. We are triggered because we remember what has happened, what could happen and how to stop it.

At this pivotal moment in history may we rise with our voices and our presence to protect the country we value. As attributed to Twain, “History doesn’t repeat itself but it often rhymes.”