Forever Young (Joan Baez) just asked too much of us

Listening to Joan Baez sing 'Forever Young' made me sad. It's a wonderful, loving wish for a life, every word. One of the anthems of a generation. Even its words forget those who never were young.

A real Boomer though will tell you it's the old souls she's singing to, not those who couldn't feel the energy of that generation. The dawning of the Age of Aquarius is really a few hundred years yet.

The cutting edge, first adopters, those who thought the world had not changed enough to catch up with their shared vision, were only a small slice of that generation. The oldest Boomers are in their 70s now, and many still have the Cold War etched into their bones.

The poetic words at  the end -- sounding very much like an Irish farewell -- may have asked too much of anyone.

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
And may your song always be sung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.

The generation that set out to change the world succeeded. It didn't change itself so much though. The idealism of the Boomers is more broadly reflected in the Gen Ys.  The Boomers became first neoliberals then neoconservatives, inexorably failing Baez' prayer to "always be courageous" to always be defensive by sliding to the right, losing much of the intrinsic joy along the way.

Politics became personal and then too personal, as one very human contradiction after conflict stumbled over one another in chaotic competition as technology continued its trajectory far ahead of the social and psychological.

Disgustingly Trustworthy

The lady who runs the convenience store around the corner tells me I can take anything I like, even if she isn't there. She's Egyptian. In her words, "You can pick up the ... things .. if I'm not here, just pick up."
"You can write down for me. .. Here.", and she points to a pad next to the cash register.

In this little coastal town, I doubt 10 people know my last name. -- They all know me as Paul (the big American).
The cafes I go to for lunch or breakfast, or just to do the coffee house thing, don't mind if I get distracted and walk out once in a while. They know I'll be back and pay up - even if I really did forget to fix it up.

I'm disgustingly trustworthy.
Sometimes I think I keep too many secrets. Business secrets, personal secrets, my own secrets, .. all of them kept. Probably even a few national security secrets I forgot long ago.
No one will ever hear them.

Characteristically, my work is something personal. Too personal really.
I want every character in a program exactly as it should be; the best possible code to accomplish the task. I'll refactor over and over until I get it right.
Back to the requirements, adjust, then look it over again. One of the bains of my existance is TDD.
Half the time, I end up with the same code I began with.

I hack and question each line, each method and strategy, until it feels and looks right.
Just a little more effort, and this would be obsessive.

Being trustworthy has its upside and downside.
The upside is I don't have the stress of stringing one story onto another. My memory might get faulty, but it is as close to the truth as I can get at the time - and people know it.
On the other hand, being trustworthy means being trusting. The air goes out of the room at times when I read a look in someone's eyes or face. But, like the dangers of freedom, that's a risk I choose to take.
The Golden Rule applies both ways to a few.

Barack Hussein Obama is the President-elect

America has elected a President, and people are celebrating in Kenya, Indonesia, Hawaii, and Harlem. These are groups related to the new President.
There's even a few who claim to be related in Ireland!
Parties are erupting across the US, France and Germany.
It's wonderful to see.

There is a sense of something lifted from one, something to smile about, all across the world.

When I was a child, I'd never see a black President in my lifetime. They also told me I'd never live to see the end of the Soviet Union too...

The ironies of life will never cease to amaze me.
America the Great Satan, commonly dismissed as incurably racist, still apparently ruled by fear and loathing of all things Islam or Muslim because of the fear of terrorism, -- has elected the son of a Muslim whose middle name is ... Hussein.
I don't know whether to cry or sing. Or both.

People are celebrating Obama's victory in many ways.
A man from Belfast living in Australia is roaming the streets telling everyone he meets that this is a victory for Franklin Delano Roosevelt and citing the US Constituion: "Government for the People; of the People and by the People."
He says the whole thing send chills up his spine.
The same man showed his bullet wounds to a young man saying, "I took those for this day."
We spent a couple of hours telling the young man about the silent, unsung heroes of past wars. Not many will remember the Murmansk run. His father was one of the few sailors who survived.
The old man would have been proud of America today.

Another man went to see his 4-year old grandson for the first time. He thinks his daughter has never been better. - To him, that 4-year old cuddling close to his neck is far more important.
But he's still glad Obama won.

This is something too long coming. America has shown itself again as a light to the World. A light of Hope.

Obama has so much Hope to live up to. All we can do is pray, and offer what we can of ourselves to help and support, that he is able to live up to half of what's expected of him.
You have our prayers, Mr Obama. You have our Hope, and Faith.
May God bless you and keep you. And all who are there with you.

The NYTimes put together a list of the top 25 blogs about the election. Click the slideshow link and drink it all in.