The perspective and relativity of age
While viewing the feature about Stalin’s summer house, one of the interviewed Russians was a woman who might have been forty. She was a bit partial to Stalin. “He wasn’t so bad,” I believe she said. “He did some good things for our country.” Welllllll…. It occurred to me that her education was flawed, to say the least. It also occurred to me that the fall of the Soviet Union happened a little more than twenty years ago. There’s a generation of young adults now who either don’t remember it, or weren’t born yet.
When I taught Mod Civ in 2010, very few students knew about the opening of East Berlin and the tearing down of the Berlin Wall in 1989. Most of them were BORN in 1989 or 1990!
That reality goes for many things in our world. In my world. At age 65, going on 66, I am realizing that my time of “power and influence” is over. What little power and influence I had, anyway. But even in the poetry world… the odds of my ever moving on to a larger stage than the one I am on are slim to none. Then I also curse myself for my temptation to hanker after fame. Saint Emily Dickinson, help me!