Get Up, Stand Up

Valentine’s Day plus two finds me sitting at home in my chair soaked in the early morning sunshine that enters through the blinds left open by my wife to prevent me from drifting downward into a wintery withdrawal. Her intentions are good, but this American Jew is of Russian descent and enjoys the embrace of a long, cold, snowy winter. Imagine Zhivago at his desk in Varykino. This is exactly what I need, nature slowing my pace, touching me with a bit of sadness that when bathed in sunlight awakens my poetic muse.

Zhivago wrote love poems to his mistress, Lara, in the isolation of his wife’s country estate as a revolution ravaged his country. He is portrayed as a healer, lover and poet in sharp contrast to Lara’s husband who is a central figure in the revolution, a man of action and ruthless cruelty. Two other characters in the movie, portrayed by no less that Rod Steiger and Alec Guinness, show us different paths to take in life. One is corrupt, lustful and selfish. The other is quiet, reads others well and somehow comes out of chaos in a position of authority. Which one do I want to be today?

     You say you want a revolution

     Well, you know

     We all want to change the world.

That was John Lennon’s view on things. Even two days after February 14th he would never leave us with “just another silly love song”. Thirty years after his death I remember his irreverence, his self-destructive years with acid, his using music as a tool of rebellion and his transformation into a man who stayed at home, cared for his son and asked us to “imagine all the people living life in peace”. He was an artist, not a fighter. Still, he inspired a cultural revolution. I wonder if ever, before his untimely end, he thought it was worth the tumult along the way or the risk (that he in fact predicted) to his own life. For the rest of us “life goes on”. Is revolution really worth the risks? My chair at home sure is soft and comfortable.

We’ve all been witnessing a revolution in the Middle East. I see the crowds of young people in Cairo’s central square and I am awed by their courage. I don’t think I would be so brave. As I watch TV I remember similar images from the 60s of American college students protesting the Viet Nam war. In that same era we marched and sat in to fight against racial inequality. We fought to abolish slavery in the Civil War losing more lives than in any other war. “Four score and seven years” before we rebelled against a foreign dictator and created a nation “conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal”. Our nation was born thanks to the courage of a bunch of rebels. And to our credit, in every generation since, we’ve reawakened that spirit to put ourselves back on course to being a nation of freedom and equality. I say we but I am no Strelnikov. The 60s are now half a century ago. I wonder if my generation of Americans and I have become too comfortable to even recognize a cause that merits our attention and sacrifice.

This very thought has been bothering me and sitting in my subconscious as a slowly simmering blog for the past few months. It started when I listened to the lyrics of a popular John Mayer song, “Waiting on the World to Change”

     Now we see everything that's going wrong
     With the world and those who lead it
     We just feel like we don't have the means
     To rise above and beat it

     So we keep waiting
     Waiting on the world to change
     We keep on waiting
     Waiting on the world to change

He goes on to say that someday his generation is “gonna rule the population”. I felt like telling him that if he and his generation “keep on waiting”, someone else, maybe those courageous Egyptians, or well educated Chinese or enterprising Indians are going to be in charge, not him. But me in my chair, who am I to tell him anything. Don’t I share responsibility for my generation’s legacy, Enron and Iraq?

Then something happened that made me look at America’s younger generation in a new and much more positive light. A nine year old girl was shot dead in Arizona. She had been elected to her school’s student council and went to see her Congresswoman speak to learn more about government. Her death was tragic. Yet, somehow, I felt hopeful. I was confident that she was not the only nine year old out there with the drive to learn the principles that have guided us, and to fight to help us keep them strong. “You may say that I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.” Christina-Taylor Green, five others in Arizona and thousands worldwide cannot have died in vain. We need to make sure of that. Whether by voting, singing, writing, marching, teaching, donating…whatever works for you, but not just waiting for the world to change. Time for me to switch to Reggae and Jimmy Cliff, and “get up, stand up” from this all too cushy chair. Who’s with me?