Forty-nine years ago. If this song hadn’t been written then, someone would have to write it for 2016.
One memory I’ve held onto this year.
I was twelve. We were living in the Chicago suburbs. There were riots downtown at the Democratic National Convention. Martin Luther King had been assassinated. Bobby Kennedy had been assassinated. Vietnam was in full meltdown mode. Tet. North Korea had grabbed the Pueblo. The Summer Olympics became a platform for protest against American racism.
The country was tearing itself apart. We elected Richard Nixon as President, arguably one of the worst, most corrupt men to ever hold that office.
As a full-fledged, card-carrying space cadet, obsessed with everything about the space program, I was of course glued to the television in December. After all of the pain and anger and grief we brought on ourselves in that year, on Christmas Eve we were given this:
It doesn’t seem we learned much since then. Who is going to save us from desperation this time?