Cumberland BC: The Cumberlander Articles Section
Uncategorized · 5th December 2011
Teresa Wild
December 5, 2011
As another Big-O number slowly comes into view, I find myself reflecting on my life, who I was as a child, and who I have become over these sixty journeys around the sun. Always, my tendency is to start in the here and now, and work my way towards the Greater Understanding, and I thought I would share these thoughts with my neighbours in Spences Bridge, my partners in this journey now.
As a child of the Fifties, I experienced a life of ecstatic freedom. I was encouraged to "go out and play", along with hundreds of other Baby Boomer kids who populated my world. My parents were loving and caring, busy with providing me with everything I needed to be healthy and happy, and often did not know where I was. No matter, they were rest assured that I was fine, and I was. I never knew of any other kid that was fatally wounded or abducted, and that fear never seemed to inhibit my play time. I played with sticks set afire from the many "burner barrels" in the alleys, waving them like torches with my other friends, engaging in mock battles. Our parents would warn us of the dangers, but never seemed to stop the shenanigans. I would take off with neighbourhood buddies for huge organized games of hide and seek, often in the street. My hiding places were so good that I would find myself emerging to "seekers" all gone home, giving up on ever finding me. On hearing this, my parents just laughed, congratulating me on playing the game well. I would disappear all day for a solo outing down by the river, figuring out how to avert dangers through my own inquisitive nature. I always returned for supper. I found out what it felt like to walk on nearly-frost-bit feet because I decided for myself that I wanted to forgo the task of donning multiple layers of socks to walk to school in 40 below. I cut myself learning to whittle with a sharp knife (no stitches).
In short, I was allowed the freedom to find things out, and, to consequently learn many life-skills I was able to apply in adulthood. I still use those skills. If I hadn't been encouraged to explore, and hadn't been told repeatedly that I could be anything I wanted to be, I never would have done all the things that have made me who I am today.
I see, now, in 2011, two generations who have never experienced true freedom, draw a blank when it is mentioned, do not understand its importance. I see young adults with few skills in adaptation to life in the Here and Now, and little resourcefulness in these rapidly changing times. I see kids who are not allowed to just "go outside and play", who are constantly restricted in play time, and then labeled with a syndrome and prescribed the appropriate medication if they show signs of frustration or boredom in their ever-increasingly regimented life. I see obesity and early-onset diabetes, drug addiction, suicide, death-cult worship, video-game addiction and despair in kids that should be healthy and happy and enjoying their fleeting childhood days. And I see all this very clearly, in contrast to my days of freedom in the Fifties.
Call me old-fashioned, and you'd be accurate. Call me nostalgic. Label me "stuck in the past". You're absolutely right. I wish with all my heart that those under the age of 60 could share my enthusiasm for life. Some do, granted, but these are few. My generation is the one responsible now for the very lack of free-thinking that has spawned internet control and the curtailing of free speech, corporate greed, government corruption, police brutalizing constitutionally-protected protests of that corruption, mind-numbing media control, consumer-directed propaganda called advertising, private ownership of taxpayer-funded resources, radiation blanketing the planet, with cancer now the number one killer, and Big Pharma profiting from all the "modern diseases", junk food, "virtual" reality, and, yes, from the budding Boomer "Flower Child" of the Sixties, we have the endless War on Terra. (Bush's pronounciation of Terror was apt).
I can boil it down to this: It seems that all of us now find ourselves harbouring a tyrant within our midst. It is easy to spot this tyrant in public office, in law makers and enforcers, in corporate policies, but not so easy to recognize it within ourselves. That tyrant is so insidious that only the opposite mentality sticks out like a nailhead in an old floor board. In this world, in this small settlement of Spences Bridge, that nailhead of the free-thinker is the first one to get hammered, for the simple reason that it is the most obvious. Being a free-thinker is an anomaly in this highly-controlled world we have made for ourselves--so much so that we question the very ethics of being Free.
So, in the crowd of Boomers turning 60, I sometimes feel like a voice in the Wilderness. What has become of our freedom? If it is a God-given right, how could anyone have taken it away? I believe that freedom is our natural right, therefore, no one CAN take it away. But it has retreated inside; no more "Go Outside and Play". The society we now live in does not condone "going outside to play", as "going" is dangerous", outside" is anarchy, "play" is a waste of time. So much fear. We are now afraid to use our free will in the service of discovering our true identity. How can we ever find out what we are supposed to be doing in this life if we do not use our free will? Do we accept the dictates of the State, and what it decides we should be? Looking at the results, I say no, the State does not decide for me. It does not, never did, and never will act in the interests of Freedom. Control is the name of the game.
I will fight for the right of anyone to voice their opinion, even if said opinion is diametrically opposed to mine. Freedom is as freedom does. I am vigilant, knowing that tyranny lurks within us all, longing to deride, separate and provoke. Freedom is an attitude, and I claim it. I mourn its death in society and our youth. I tell my story to those who will hear it, in hopes that freedom may flame up, either as a newly-fledged idea, or a Phoenix from the ashes.
So turning 60 is bittersweet. I celebrate my eccentricity in the New World Order, but with trepidation. Celebrating with other enthusiasts is much more fun that doing it alone. I encourage all to "Go outside and Play", as my dearly departed parents once urged me. I'm going out there, myself, to see what I can see, learn what I can learn. I am aging dangerously. One day, I will die radically. I want to use this life up, all of it, savouring all to the last bite, and then move on. Let "Rotten to the Core!", be this Boomers death cry.
Happy Birthday, all. Teresa Wild
As another Big-O number slowly comes into view, I find myself reflecting on my life, who I was as a child, and who I have become over these sixty journeys around the sun. Always, my tendency is to start in the here and now, and work my way towards the Greater Understanding, and I thought I would share these thoughts with my neighbours in Spences Bridge, my partners in this journey now.
As a child of the Fifties, I experienced a life of ecstatic freedom. I was encouraged to "go out and play", along with hundreds of other Baby Boomer kids who populated my world. My parents were loving and caring, busy with providing me with everything I needed to be healthy and happy, and often did not know where I was. No matter, they were rest assured that I was fine, and I was. I never knew of any other kid that was fatally wounded or abducted, and that fear never seemed to inhibit my play time. I played with sticks set afire from the many "burner barrels" in the alleys, waving them like torches with my other friends, engaging in mock battles. Our parents would warn us of the dangers, but never seemed to stop the shenanigans. I would take off with neighbourhood buddies for huge organized games of hide and seek, often in the street. My hiding places were so good that I would find myself emerging to "seekers" all gone home, giving up on ever finding me. On hearing this, my parents just laughed, congratulating me on playing the game well. I would disappear all day for a solo outing down by the river, figuring out how to avert dangers through my own inquisitive nature. I always returned for supper. I found out what it felt like to walk on nearly-frost-bit feet because I decided for myself that I wanted to forgo the task of donning multiple layers of socks to walk to school in 40 below. I cut myself learning to whittle with a sharp knife (no stitches).
In short, I was allowed the freedom to find things out, and, to consequently learn many life-skills I was able to apply in adulthood. I still use those skills. If I hadn't been encouraged to explore, and hadn't been told repeatedly that I could be anything I wanted to be, I never would have done all the things that have made me who I am today.
I see, now, in 2011, two generations who have never experienced true freedom, draw a blank when it is mentioned, do not understand its importance. I see young adults with few skills in adaptation to life in the Here and Now, and little resourcefulness in these rapidly changing times. I see kids who are not allowed to just "go outside and play", who are constantly restricted in play time, and then labeled with a syndrome and prescribed the appropriate medication if they show signs of frustration or boredom in their ever-increasingly regimented life. I see obesity and early-onset diabetes, drug addiction, suicide, death-cult worship, video-game addiction and despair in kids that should be healthy and happy and enjoying their fleeting childhood days. And I see all this very clearly, in contrast to my days of freedom in the Fifties.
Call me old-fashioned, and you'd be accurate. Call me nostalgic. Label me "stuck in the past". You're absolutely right. I wish with all my heart that those under the age of 60 could share my enthusiasm for life. Some do, granted, but these are few. My generation is the one responsible now for the very lack of free-thinking that has spawned internet control and the curtailing of free speech, corporate greed, government corruption, police brutalizing constitutionally-protected protests of that corruption, mind-numbing media control, consumer-directed propaganda called advertising, private ownership of taxpayer-funded resources, radiation blanketing the planet, with cancer now the number one killer, and Big Pharma profiting from all the "modern diseases", junk food, "virtual" reality, and, yes, from the budding Boomer "Flower Child" of the Sixties, we have the endless War on Terra. (Bush's pronounciation of Terror was apt).
I can boil it down to this: It seems that all of us now find ourselves harbouring a tyrant within our midst. It is easy to spot this tyrant in public office, in law makers and enforcers, in corporate policies, but not so easy to recognize it within ourselves. That tyrant is so insidious that only the opposite mentality sticks out like a nailhead in an old floor board. In this world, in this small settlement of Spences Bridge, that nailhead of the free-thinker is the first one to get hammered, for the simple reason that it is the most obvious. Being a free-thinker is an anomaly in this highly-controlled world we have made for ourselves--so much so that we question the very ethics of being Free.
So, in the crowd of Boomers turning 60, I sometimes feel like a voice in the Wilderness. What has become of our freedom? If it is a God-given right, how could anyone have taken it away? I believe that freedom is our natural right, therefore, no one CAN take it away. But it has retreated inside; no more "Go Outside and Play". The society we now live in does not condone "going outside to play", as "going" is dangerous", outside" is anarchy, "play" is a waste of time. So much fear. We are now afraid to use our free will in the service of discovering our true identity. How can we ever find out what we are supposed to be doing in this life if we do not use our free will? Do we accept the dictates of the State, and what it decides we should be? Looking at the results, I say no, the State does not decide for me. It does not, never did, and never will act in the interests of Freedom. Control is the name of the game.
I will fight for the right of anyone to voice their opinion, even if said opinion is diametrically opposed to mine. Freedom is as freedom does. I am vigilant, knowing that tyranny lurks within us all, longing to deride, separate and provoke. Freedom is an attitude, and I claim it. I mourn its death in society and our youth. I tell my story to those who will hear it, in hopes that freedom may flame up, either as a newly-fledged idea, or a Phoenix from the ashes.
So turning 60 is bittersweet. I celebrate my eccentricity in the New World Order, but with trepidation. Celebrating with other enthusiasts is much more fun that doing it alone. I encourage all to "Go outside and Play", as my dearly departed parents once urged me. I'm going out there, myself, to see what I can see, learn what I can learn. I am aging dangerously. One day, I will die radically. I want to use this life up, all of it, savouring all to the last bite, and then move on. Let "Rotten to the Core!", be this Boomers death cry.
Happy Birthday, all. Teresa Wild