I have lived a long time and hopefully learned a little something from my mistakes. I like to think I learned from the times I got it right, too. One thing I know for sure, the time between achieving wisdom and your death is fleeting. This is why so often a person’s last words are, “Well, crap!”
For several years, a friend and I shared a humor column in a county newspaper. We had a near-perfect venue for observations (rants) on any topic that struck our fancies, and our fancies were constantly under attack. I didn’t appreciate the soapbox until the editor kicked it out from under me. Seems my liberal opinions finally crossed the line and I was history. Admittedly, it didn’t take much; that line lay about two inches from my foot the whole time I wrote for them.
I took a long and torturous route to enlightenment. The first time I could vote for president was 1972, Richard Nixon’s second run for the roses. Within two years, I learned my maiden vote had been squandered on the worst kind of crook, one not smart enough to keep the fact under wraps. I remained traumatized, dubious of my ability to make an intelligent choice, and didn’t vote again for several years.
I awakened from my political sleep about twenty years ago. While I snoozed, many of my fellow citizens had moved politically slightly to the right of Attila the Hun. There was a noisy bunch in my neighborhood hell-bent on banning books at the local high school. They wanted veto power not only for their own children but for everyone else’s. Seems they thought themselves better judges than the teachers of what was age-appropriate literature for the students, even though they had not actually read any of the books in question. Figuring the next stop was a bonfire of books out on the practice football field, I stood up and fought.
I’m still fighting. The issues change along with the fractious factions, but I seem to spend ever-increasing hours fighting the barbarians at my gate. So, with my very first blog I offer you my musings and welcome you to The Soapbox.