SEE ME FEEL ME/LISTENING TO YOU

“See Me, Feel Me” is The Who inviting their audience to wake up.

Right behind you, I see the millions
On you, I see the glory
From you, I get opinion
From you, I get the story

That was in 1969. What’s changed since then?

What hasn’t?

I was in eighth grade in ’69. It was a good time to be in Junior High.

Thirteen year old me in ’69 was a fan of the people walking away from the life they knew for one they hoped was better.

I wasn’t walking away from anything myself, but those who did seemed like the cool cats of a new generation.

See Me Feel Me was out there some place, just some place I didn’t know.

’69 was the first year I remember a classmate coming back to school in the fall with long hair.

Way to show up, Scott Gallagher.

At my house we still sat in a chair for home haircuts. If we complained it got cut shorter.

Big brother broke out and got a haircut at Pony Village.

He came home, got some See Me review, and my mom took him back to the barber shop for some extra cuts.

The story I got was the notion of consequences for good and bad decisions.

Oregon Lagged Behind

Imagine seeing this picture while planning a life of independence and adventure.

The west side looks like a fortress, hard to get into, hard to get out of.

From the east it looks impenetrable.

But that far western edge is the sweet spot.

If you make it that far, over the fear of mountain travel and snow, past doubts and uncertainty, then you’ve done something worthwhile.

That honor was lost on those who grew up on the strip of land on the edge of the continent.

We started out winners and didn’t know it.

Or if we did, the magnitude of the win wasn’t apparent at first.

That’s what history is for.

A quick search on this blog shows I’ve written something about the Oregon Trail on over 200 posts.

It seems like a lot until I checked on total blog posts, which number over 2600.

Traditional history tells of the Oregon Trail starting in Missouri.

I told my new student about the border states pre-Civil War where black families and white families could be neighbors.

However, history shows not everyone was a good neighbor.

Some of the bad neighbors packed up a wagon, strapped Grandma to a chair, and aimed the oxen west.

According to Oregon’s founding constitution, black people were not permitted to live in the state. And that held true until 1926. The small number of black people already living in the state in 1859, when it was admitted to the Union, were sometimes allowed to stay, but the next century of segregation and terrorism at the hands of angry racists made it clear that they were not welcome.

History isn’t always a nice story with a happy ending.

No one stands up to say, “SEE ME, I’m a freaking jerk.”

That changed, too.

A New Day To See Me

Social media has put the See Me Feel Me Heal Me generation in the spotlight.

Today any bitter hippie can post a video on YouTube ragging about how it used to be and where western civilization took a wrong turn.

Any commune living refugee can write a screed on Facebook about their virtuous former life and how much they hate the direction modern life is taking them.

What happened to them is what happens to most who want more out of life than what they see in front of them.

They caved, conformed, gave up.

A good man married Sunflower and they made a home together.

Raw Dog Rambler married a nice girl and they made a home.

They had kids who went through a traumatic life stage of hating their parents. Who hasn’t?

But these are the parents who hated their parents for their mindless conformity.

Now their kids hate them for the same reasons.

They might need some treatment for that burn.

Remember, they’re listening to you.