The Kids

I began high school in September of 1966, and graduated in June of 1970, a period of time which coincided with the height of the “police action” in Vietnam. Already I was no stranger to peaceful protest, having watched my friend John wear an armband throughout his senior year, in support of Caesar Chavez and his efforts to attain fair wages for farm workers.

When I was drafted out of Cal Poly, Pomona, in January of 1972, I was  dead certain that I was on my way to The Nam.

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An interesting side-note is that I had already participated in peaceful demonstrations against this war, and here I was on my way to boot camp in Missouri. I was not so much scared, as I was going out of my freaking mind, missing my friends and family. 

Having applied myself voraciously to the battery of form tests, that we took a total of five times my first month in the service, I achieved enough success to attract the attention of the brass. Why waste my talents having me tote a rifle doing guard duty on the DMZ, when I could be working in a personnel office, doing things that required a higher degree of intelligence than guard duty?

See, there was method to my madness in applying myself to those tests, as tantalizing as it was to make cool patterns with the answer sheet, as some of my 11 Bravo, DMZ-bound buddies were doing. Hey, some of us were not here because we did all that well on tests back home.

When I got out of the service and moved to the Bay Area, I attended San Jose State University for the next eight years, including my masters work. During this time I protested alongside my brothers and sisters, advocating solidarity for human rights, women’s rights, gay and lesbian rights and whatever else I could jam into my work/college life.

I watched with infinite pride as members of my first middle school homeroom ever, seventh graders they were in the spring of 1991, marched out of my classroom after returning from lunch break, and took their actions uptown. They stood on the corner of Branscomb Road and Highway 101, and waved their signs at passing vehicles, protesting the presence of The United States in The Middle East.

I participated in a July 4th protest a few summers ago, in conjunction with a nationwide effort to raise awareness of GMO’s and the death-grip that Big Agra has on this whole food atrocity. We stood out on The 101 and tried to get folks to honk in support of our efforts. Imagine a culture in which the government espouses a carcinogenic replacement for organic food. 

Why? The government is controlled by those with money, and there is plenty of money in Big Agra. Growing organically costs more and therefore is counterproductive to the overall goal of making money. Besides, the cancer rate is soaring with the consumption of all the poisonous GMO’s, and that’s good for business with Big Pharma.

Gluten-Free Mama and I journeyed over to Sacramento thirteen months ago, to march in support of women's rights, but I am no longer able to make that long of a drive. My protesting days may rely more on my fingers than my toes from here on out.

That being said, I have been rejuvenated out of my political malaise, by the essence of that which makes our country great. This is the news that out of the ashes of the horrific and habitual assaults on school kids, will march a completely fresh and potentially lethal political force: The Kids.

The Kids were there in the sixties marching against The War and they were there in the seventies, protesting for human rights; they have been there expressing themselves against poison in our food, and now they have taken up their own cause: The Kids are tired of seeing other kids being used as lethal shields for the National Rifle Association.

I was in the first generation which had to learn to live
under the threat of nuclear war. I was ten years old
The Bay of Pigs confrontation occurred.

The recent lockdown of Leggett Schools due to shots fired in the vicinity of the Ropes Course, and the drama from Willits several nights ago, emphasize the fact that people are sick and tired of it, and getting punchy in the process. We are tired of seeing profits take preference over life.

As a society we are sick of having assault weapons thrust down our collective throats. The original intent of the Founding Fathers had nothing to do with having the right to mow down forty or fifty kindergartners, scattering for cover. It would seem imperative that the NRA has a lot of bullets-quickly-in order to kill small things scurrying around in terror.

Now, after the pace of school shootings has exponentially rocketed, The Kids have had enough. I never met a kid in my life that didn’t have some punch in him or her, so I know that if you put them all together, they’re going to do some serious damage in an area where we adults have simply floundered. 

Flounder all you want if you are a fish, but the time has come to assert what we as a culture actually want, and that is to be free from the yoke of the NRA.

The author of Mark's Work in Sacramento