The Way We Were

I know, an old title but one that speaks to each of us for a special time. If we are lucky, many special times. One of mine....

Overhead the trees dripped limbs, leaves and seed pods. Sap, too, if you parked under them. Aromas oozed throughout the neighborhood. Fresh air, newly mown lawns, lilacs blooming and a bit of dust and people pollution (car exhaust, cigarette smoke, cooking aromas from nearby restaurants). This was Oak Park, Illinois in 1966 to 1968. The air was warm in spring and summer, cool in autumn, cold and damp in winter. The network of streets and avenues were busy with cars, bikes and pedestrians year round. People moving from home to work, to school, to shopping, to visiting and to church. A very walkable community. Close knit and densely populated.

Brick apartment blocks were common, some red, some gray, others blonde. Three or four stories, all walkups. Big apartments – 2 and 3 bedrooms. This is how American families raised their kids in urban Oak Park, a town, even a village, but also a small city abutting Chicago. A quick rapid transit ride from two lines in town dropped you into the heart of downtown Chicago in 8 minutes. Buses and other rapid transit trains distributed riders to nearly every spot throughout Chicago. And the jobs were plentiful.

The last half of the 60’s jobs went begging for workers. Wages spiked and the cost of living was pretty good. I had graduated college in June 1965. Hippies were sprouting everywhere, the Viet Nam war was on most every tongue, especially if you were in your teens or just getting out of college. The draft was voracious. All young men wondered when they would be sent to Nam. Me? I went through the pre-induction physical in July 1965 but failed it. Bad lungs and flat, flat feet.

The times were already politically roiled. Viet Nam was only the latest of arguments – to go or not, to fight or not, why were we in Viet Nam in the first place? No, the larger issue was Civil Rights. This was Martin Luther King’s era, the right to be, the sit-in epoch, fire hose diplomacy, police dog and tear gas threats. Black Lives Matter was not a theme back then; no, we argued for basic rights to just be in the 60’s, and to be free to walk, work and make families. Instead, none of that was a right. A struggle, yes; a right, no.

In April 1968, King was assassinated. Riots, looting and urban fires erupted. Social unrest was the disorder of the day. In June 1968 Bobby Kennedy was assassinated. Add to the social unrest the political unrest and then the social angst of Viet Nam and you have a good sense of what 1968 was. Don't forget the 1968 Democratic National Convention held in Chicago and the resulting police riots.

Oak Park took it in stride. Bookstores were busier than record shops. Churches were alive with sermons and discussion groups yearning to coherently understand the issues. The elections were near. President Johnson announced he would not run for re-election. America faced an important national election with no clear winner in sight. Upheaval was the watchword of the day.

When King was killed in Memphis, doubt hung over our nation. A collective gasp was inhaled. Society stalled for moments before violence started. The wail of people matched that of sirens. Something had to be done; no one knew what. Only the outcome was hoped for – justice for all. We did not even know what that would look like, but it was what we wanted.

Life stuttered in its routines. Commuters commuted. Bakers baked. Cooks cooked. Mothers mothered and fathers fathered. But nothing was the same. Nothing was normal. An awakening was born.

Some of us started new jobs. Some retired. Others started families. Me? I entered seminary. I wanted to invent a new ministry that would meet people where they worked and lived, not in church, but in the centers of life. The seminary supported that vision. They and I hoped it would be a path to healing a sick society struggling with racial divides.

That did not happen, but it was a good start. Years later the path veered into human resources and then higher education student development work. Later the nonprofit bug soared, and a career was carved out to support nonprofit hopes and dreams. Passion, purpose, and planning became my guiding stars in working with hundreds of organizations intent on building a better country, a better more just future.  

Today, I still press envisioning desired outcomes and the way to attain them. 60 years in the making and the struggle continues. Today’s problems are similar, just different details. The core is the same: justice, equality, respect for others. Still needed. Still in short supply.

Dreams unrealized. A job still needing to be done.

May 28, 2021