No, it wasn't this screwed up in '70, but it was escalating due to the 60s. Of course it hurt your brain and what was beginning to be seen was hurting a lot of peoples' brains then ... of what they were permitted to see. Some just tuned it out; they had kids to raise, jobs to do, houses to paint and what they watched on the "news" left them a bit confused and bewildered because what they were permitted to see was not what they'd grown up with, and they weren't given the whole story, thank you, Mr. Cronkite. The parents were about the age you are now, Weisshaupt; my mother was 37. Do you know how young that seems to me now?
I was 16 in 1970, just starting Senior year in high school, still wearing nice clothes, skirts a fashionable but decent length, wondering what the hell that smell was wafting out of the girl's bathroom, and what they hell were these weird kids doing sitting in their tie-dyed rags on the dirty floor in the hallways.
And the moolies were strutting their Afro-ed selves around the place, looking for someone or something on which to vent their communist-inspired wrath, although they didn't realize who was stoking their undeserved sense of deprivation -- most of them were from low-to-middle class families living decent lives in a predominantly Jewish town, which meant the schools were still good and the spirit of "giving" came straight from the Temples, and the Church, and for their benefit should anyone be hard up enough to accept charity. Because a majority of the teachers were Jewish, "tolerances" were allowed for those who had been "damaged by society".
I wasn't interested then in diagnosing the weird and the "tolerant", and I had places to go -- my own apartment at 19 -- a job and a newfound sense of freedom. So I went, went, went.
Around eleven years later, at 30, I stood still long enough to assess what was going on around me, and didn't recognize a freakin thing.
No one told me when to run; I missed the starting gun.
It wasn't until 45 that I began looking into WHAT HAPPENED?! and with the advent of the internet, at 50, 51, 52 I began to understand. Not what happened, but what had been done.
