For the past nine months, Amy and I have started our morning together. I get up, pee, weigh myself, brush my teeth, meditate for 20 to 30 minutes, and then we have “morning coffee” together.
Morning coffee lasts for two cups of coffee (one regular, one decaf). This ends up being between 15 and 30 minutes, depending on what we are talking about. After spending the vast majority of our 30 years together on the road until a few years ago, this has been an incredible joy for me. Regardless of the previous day, it gives me a clear way to Simply Being Again, each morning with my beloved.
When I woke up Monday morning, I didn’t expect so much of our morning coffee this week to discuss what was going on in politics in the United States. Today, one of the things we riffed on was our respective first political memories.
Mine was Richard Nixon being impeached. I was seven years old. We didn’t watch very much television in my house growing up – mostly PBS (Channel 13 in Dallas) and sports my dad liked to watch (mostly Dallas Cowboys football.) I remember a few TV shows like Happy Days and Gilligan’s Island, but Daniel and I were only allowed one hour of TV a day, and I often didn’t use mine because I preferred to read.
I never watched the news as a kid. Maybe my parents did in their bedroom, but it took an extraordinary event for us to watch TV news together. I remember the Iran Hostage Crisis, Oliver North, and one of the moon landings (I don’t remember which one.)
We had two TVs in the house – one in my parent’s bedroom and one in the room we called “the family room.” I remember sitting on the floor in my parent’s bedroom, watching Congress impeach Nixon. I only have one visual image of it, so my guess is there was only one day that we watched it. But whatever it was, it was a climactic moment that cemented itself in my memory.
Amy remembers it also. Her family didn’t have a TV growing up, so she remembers going to the Anchor River Inn, owned by Bob and Julie Clutts, and watching the TV at the bar. I bet that we were watching TV simultaneously, me in Dallas, Texas, and Amy in Anchor Point, Alaska.
We are each lifetime members of Generation X. The broad brush of Gen X being cynical and disaffected is probably true, unless you choose purpose, meaning, joy, and empathy.
Our earliest experience with politics is of the deep cracks in the foundations of the institutions our parents could believe in. At 55, I am experiencing that again. It’s been continual low-level noise my entire life, but the volume was just turned up to 11. Or maybe even 12.
