What was the Cold War like?
It was like falling asleep
To the moaning of a phantom train
Barreling through our dreams,
And when we woke up
It was like a cavern
Where we could peer straight into hell.
It was like living in an insane asylum
Administered by maniacs
That we would vote for,
Always voting for the ones
That were least likely
To blow us all to hell . . .
Casting our vote,
Not to salvage democracy
But in hopes of making it
For a few more years
Against all odds.
Are you with me?
Then why am I referring the the Cold War
In the past tense?
Because the Cold War ended
When Nato (i.e., the United States)
goaded Russia into invading Ukraine.
I don’t know about you
But I’m feeling the heat . . .
I recently wrote to my brother:
“If a Russian bomb lands in Poland
That’s it.
Time to sing, ‘Those were the days’.”
Once upon a time there was a cavern
Where we used to party ‘til we fell.
Remember how we laughed away the hours
Thinking of all the ways to go to Hell.
Those were the days my friend,
We thought they’d never end,
We passed the buck
And prayed for a better days.
We had no power to choose
So we just chose to snooze,
For we were scared
And knew no other way.
La la la la la la
La la la la la la
La la la la La la la la la la
Ah, yes, the good old days of the Cold War . . . .
Look at it through the eyes of the maniacs in Washington…
They get to test high tech weapons on real Russians!
Real war ships!
And half of the maniacs are hoping
That Putin announces an ultimatum
So we can can initiate plan Z,
Or whatever they call it
In the asylum.
I asked my brother: “So many things could go wrong.
How can these people be so broken
and self-centered?
Don’t they realize what is at stake?”
He said:
“No. They are idiots full of hubris.
They are convinced America can do anything.”
Then those freaky years went rushing past us
We lost some of our sanity on the way.
If by chance I saw you in the cavern
We’d smile at one another and we’d say:
Those were the days my friend,
We thought they’d never end,
We passed the buck
But prayed for better days.
We had no power to choose
So we just chose to snooze
For we were scared
And knew no other way.
La la la la la la
La la la la la la
La la la la La la la la la la
Last night I dreamed I stood before the cavern
And nothing seemed the way it used to be.
In my my mind there rose a strange reflection:
Is the world the way it needs to be?
La la la la la la
La la la la la la
La la la la La la la la la la
………….
“Those were the days”, recorded in 1968, was written by Gene Raskin. From the start it struck me as an old song, like something people would sing in a tavern after they had tipped a few pints. It didn’t seem to belong in the sixties. It sounded more like a song that older and wiser people would sing — like people over 40 who were reminiscing about dreams deferred. (in fact the tune is that of an old Russian drinking song.) I identified with the sentiment of the song because, growing up in the sixties, I was an old soul. Not just because I was an angry radicalized, confirmed pacifist at an early age, (seeking sanctuary on the Navaho Reservation [tutoring Navaho youth at Many Farms, Navaho Community College, near Canyon De Chelley, in 1969, at the age of 19]), but because, I was a post WW2, Cold War baby, and would argue that I came out of my mother hard-wired to condemn and renounce all violence. Way before I was a teen, I was aware of how we were all being held hostage by a warlike breed of men who were poised to push the button to end the world. Our dreams of a peaceful world, though fostered by a rejuvenating collective spirit of live and let live, were naive and weak and unsustainable. As early as 1967, the hippy (peace and love) movement was being subsumed by the anti-war movement, but there was no vision for what a world without war would look like, because most of those who were marching against war and nuclear proliferation had only lived about a 4th of their lives. They were righteously angry idealists. If you want to know what a hardened hippy looked like, all I can tell you is there were a lot of us in the late sixties who had cut our hair and replaced our beads and bellbottoms with political pins and the bluejeans of the worker, kind of like following the advice of Corinthians — “when I became a man, I put away childish things”. I feel like I started to become a man when I started studying civil disobedience and tax-resistance. Just as an example of where I was at back then, I saw Woodstock as the end or climax of a movement or a dream, not the beginning of anything. So I identify with the coming-of-age sentiment of “Those were the days”, but disagree with what that looks like. It looks like accepting that we failed. There is every indication that they will finally push the button, or rather they are pushing the button, just in very slow motion. Or . . . or what? Is there another option? I’m glad I am a dreamer and a dream worker because, as far as I can tell, paying attention to our dreams is the only way to track what is really happening in the human psyche these days. (Jung knew this.) And it is in the human psyche where what will be the future for the average person, is unfolding right now.