Out of Step Boomer

Being an aging, privileged, white male has its perks. You get called "sir" a lot for one thing. Cashiers at the grocery store look at your disheveled, frumpy outfit with pity. And other old guys are ready and willing to confide in you their views of the world. Having made it, they think things are great and want to talk about good restaurants, pretty places to visit, the balm of being above the fray of making a living. Only problem is you're not part of that club. For one thing, you're not as rich, but that's not the main thing. You were a teacher for your career. They were architects, lawyers, real estate moguls, and trust funders. They are a comfortable, self-satisfied lot. I say this because too much comfort is like a drug, and it requires that you rationalize having so much with others of a like mind. You, however, see things differently, don't share the story that comfort in retirement is the highest good. You see all too well a world on fire, and, more importantly, you feel it, can't sleep for it, want to throw yourself on the gears of the machine in rebellion and defiance. It is time to devote your mind and heart to creative resistance, the imagination of something new, a more humane cultural, social, political, and, yes, economic narrative that includes and raises up the marginalized and outcast; you will burn with a light choosing generosity over fear. You will find your tribe and work together with them to lift each other up. You will give until it hurts and then give some more. Then, if necessary, you will be the first to clamber over the barricade, to take one for freedom, struggle, and equity. Sleep will come easier then and you can rest knowing you heard the call.