To all my followers under the age of 30.
Yes both of you. Pay attention.
If you don’t want people like me deciding your future (and trust me, you don’t) then get off your $1500 adjustable, padded, ultra-ventilated, and Netflix-equipped Herman Miller chair and vote this November. And don’t just say you’re going to vote or express your opinion—as all the millennials did in England—and then stay home…unless you want a bunch of tired old baby-boomers who hark back to some fictitious good ol’ days to decide your future.
Like in England.
Last week the voter turnout among British pensioners and soon-to-be pensioners (retirees in America-speak) was 82%; among Brits under 34, 47%. (We “pensioners” have lots of time on our hands—voting is like a night on the town for us so of course we’re going to turn out.) By one set of statistics, if 65% of the millennials had done the same, the results would have been different. Instead, all those people who wanted to make England great again got their wish: now they’ve left it for the next generation to straighten out the mess.
It’s going to happen here. Next year at this time we’re going to have a 70+ year-old president unless some new whiz kid hijacks one of the conventions. The difference among the three is that two of them (Clinton and Sanders) want to slog forward while Trump wants to rush back to those fictitious good ol’ days. (Only someone like Donald Trump would make slog seem the better choice.) The millennials will decide this election—either actively or passively. Shame on them if they let my past decide their future
An addendum to my article from Wednesday: I read a letter in the Courant this morning listing all the good things that Gary Craig has done—helped gather toys for poor children at Christmas, for one. But that’s the easy part—charitable work that garners praise gives us all a good feeling, and I don’t doubt his intentions. But when we screw up as he did, it goes on the sheet and gets tallied with everything else. The screw-ups make us human, and we have a great capacity to forgive and move on; but the screw-ups don’t get erased. For that one day he behaved like a racist, and unfortunately that day counts with all the others.