How change allows for a better world
Whirlwind tour of decades shows evolution of thinking makes
civil rights, medical advances and Nikki possible
Wild child bored and sad, Daddy’s little angel you’ve gone
mad.
Can’t wait, gotta’ escape, life’s too short to hesitate …
— M.M.
Dear Nikki, Yesterday was your birthday, and I can’t believe
you’ve been in my life for two years already. As my daughter,
you’ve brightened each day that you’re around and never once have I
regretted the decision that your mother and I made, to bring you
into this world. (Well, except for that time when whatever you ate
didn’t agree with you and I got stuck with diaper duty.)
Time’s a funny thing, though. So much change happens in such
short passages, that pretty soon you’ll no longer be asking for
crayons to color the wall with. No, instead you’ll need a new pair
of shoes and the keys to the car. Then it’ll be boys (I just shined
my baseball bat for when that time comes), college and a career of
your own. One minute daddy’s little girl, the next, you’ll have the
joy of diapers all for yourself. I can’t wait for that particular
payback.
Every year that you get older, some say you’ll become wiser. And
I hold this myth to be true. But wisdom isn’t based on
intelligence; rather, it’s based on experience and an allowance for
change and growth.
Change is a good thing. Regardless of what happens, always
remember that periods of growth in this world were only halted
whenever a select few allowed fear to rule and deny what they knew
was right.
We remember the 1920s as a time of raucous behavior and gangster
lore. Al Capone and the myth of the Untouchables ruled the land,
while Charlie Chaplin and the Keystone Cops ruled the screen.
Speakeasies and prohibition helped us get through the nights, while
factory jobs and the birth of the auto got us through the day.
Sure it was a simpler time in our minds, but we tend to forget
that women and blacks couldn’t vote, and that a depression was just
around the corner. And Capone eventually got caught and died in
jail of syphilis.
Which means that it was a time for change, and with change came
the 1930s. Sure, certain antibiotics still hadn’t been invented
yet, which means that people could die from an infected blister.
And OK, maybe there was a large amount of opium gliding through the
streets, but the ’30s also gave us Louis Armstrong, telephones in
every house and a climb from the despair of the Depression. No
longer did John-Boy and his family have to dither over the price of
an apple; soon they would watch the needle above Wall Street as it
climbed toward heaven.
The 1940s were a little better in our minds, but we tend to
gloss over such things like war and holocaust every chance we get.
That was when a great-grandfather you and I never got a chance to
meet, died. He volunteered to serve in this country’s military, to
defend certain principles that you and I take for granted.
Of course, some revisionists will tell you that it was all right
for a single man to kill 11 million people, and that even when new
dictators arise, we should leave them to rule how they wish. Our
great-grandfather didn’t feel that way. He gave himself fully for
what he believed. Thank God for change.
The 1950s are recognized as the era of fun. Rock and roll
crashed through full steam with the sounds of Elvis and Chuck Berry
hammering away on their guitars through your AM dial. Dick Clark
buzzed and the Wolfman howled. Bring on Jerry Lee and Little "The
Queen of Rock and Roll" Richard, ’cause the boys have a meeting
with the bathroom mirror, grease and the Jimmy Dean look.
With your hips twitching and your toes tapping, it was a time to
go blonde and fall in love with a Ms. Monroe. If she wasn’t
available, don’t worry; Jayne Mansfield was around without a bra
and didn’t mind the stares and glares.
Medicine made leaps and bounds toward eliminating diseases such
as polio and measles, to the point that you no longer have to worry
about them. Cars became mandatory in every garage, and science gave
us a new toy called television. It also gave us nuclear arms (I’m
talking the big toys, not just itty-bitty atomic bombs). If ever we
needed a time for change, this was it.
Now, the 1960s evoked a theme of peace, but with Kent State,
Vietnam and the assassination of a president, I’m not sure what
peace exactly meant for everyone. Sure, there was the Civil Rights
Movement, but there was also the death of two civil rights leaders.
It seemed that for every positive, a double negative followed. At
any rate, change was needed.
Unfortunately, we got the 1970s. Four words: bell bottoms,
polyester, disco.
The 1980s: Big hair, long nails and a movie star as president.
There was a two-for-one sale on "year ofs." We got the "Year of the
Bimbo" mixed up with the "Year of the Fallen Ministries." While
Donna Rice and Fawn Hall were having fun messing with Gary Hart and
Oliver North, Jessica Hahn started the domino fall of Jim Baker,
Jerry Falwell and Oral Roberts. OK, maybe Roberts wasn’t all that
bad. I mean, sure Oral, I really believe God told you that without
$8 million he was going to "take you home."
Some say the ’80s were the birth of the yuppie nation, while
others say we were in a depression the whole time – only we didn’t
notice. Then there are those who claim that the government gave us
a new disease called AIDS. Seems that some of the people from the
’60s were still peaking and couldn’t get conspiracy out of their
minds. Bring on Oliver Stone and you get the idea.
But we listened to them. We listened and then overwhelmingly we
told them to shut up. Which they didn’t, and they still continue to
tell people like you and me that we’re ignorant and blind. But
don’t hate them; they’re just scared. Scared of change.
Which brings us to the 1990s. Just another decade to some,
though many are in need of a bath. Computers are the new rage, and
the stock market has lifted itself up for a fall. They say that
what goes up, has to come down, and the Berlin Wall and Russia both
proved that to be true. So did parts of California. And as usual,
there are a loud few who think that we should leave things the way
they are.
Today’s current controversy is race-oriented.
See, there are a few whiners who, even though they live in a
democratic society, only believe in democracy and free speech when
things are going their way. As soon as they realize that they are a
limited few, they cry and moan, and despair about the end of the
world. It’s actually pretty funny when you think about it.
What they want is to go back to the early ’20s and let skin
color count for more than merit. And I don’t mean just academic
merit. Merit is based on the factors that help make you who you
are.
Nikki, it doesn’t matter that you live in an apartment with two
working parents and will go to public school. No, what people see
when they look at you right now is the color of your skin. And
based on that color, they assume that you’re born and raised in
Beverly Hills and are guaranteed a BMW on your 16th birthday. It’s
amazing, but true.
Guess they’ve been watching too much Aaron Spelling television
and believe everything they hear. And no, when you’re 16, you can’t
get a boob job like Tori; besides, with your mother’s genes, you
won’t need it.
I thought stereotypes were supposed to be a thing of the past.
Apparently not. In the ’20s a person with dark skin was considered
ignorant and stupid. People weren’t allowed to vote and had to use
separate drinking fountains; buses, sport teams and schools were
instituted based on skin tone alone. If you spoke a language other
than English, there was no translation help for you.
If your eyes had a different look to them, getting a job was
almost impossible. Getting ahead was impossible. If you were white,
but not of English descent, you did manual labor and were lucky if
the local school let you in to learn how to read and write. And
now, these ignorant few want the same thing back.
Luckily, you won’t be brought up with these values. It’s only
what’s inside that matters, and thankfully you’re still colorblind.
When we go to the park and play, it never phases you that children
of all genders and races play in the same park, and it never will.
Sure there are difficulties, but Kim’s mom already forgave you for
drooling on her new blouse, and I bought Khameil a replacement
lollipop.
I look at you right now, and I can already see how change has
made it possible for you to be here. Besides medical advances and
the like, you come from two people who 30 years ago would not have
been allowed to marry. Or would have been kicked out of the family,
at the least.
Thirty years ago, a Jewish woman and an Irish man would not have
been allowed to marry, and your cousins wouldn’t have darker skin.
Luckily, there were a majority of people back then, just as there
are now, who believe that change is good, and essential for our
survival.
So when you grow up, always remember, that no matter what new
outbreak happens, or what the political situation entails, it will
all pass. It always does. For yesterday is just that, and will
never be again, unless you let it. And so far, history has not
needed to come back. Because if I didn’t allow for change, then I
wouldn’t have you.
You are everything that a father could wish for. I love you,
honey.
Happy birthday.
Reardon is a third-year philosophy student. His column appears
on alternate Mondays.Comments to webmaster@db.asucla.ucla.edu