Hello Boomer

The Zoomer Salutes 

Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms. 

Generation Z (or Gen Z for short), colloquially known as zoomers, is the demographic cohort succeeding Millennials and preceding Generation Alpha.  That’s what they say.  They are ghost dancers… the zoomers are.  I’m so thankful that so many people and institutions in my life have openly clarified who they are and how they behave under duress. To connect with like-minded and open-minded comrades, you are required to first move on from those seeking to harm you or, at least, hold you back.  If you wish to continue growing, learning, and evolving, you must be willing to relentlessly see and accept what’s going on.  Translation: You must reclaim the subversive pleasure of thinking for yourself.  No matter where you go- there you are.

Of course everyone does that… think for themselves, that is.  That’s what they say if you ask them, and you must not say otherwise unless you are prepared to fight… and the ghost dancers had already been there and done that.  If the pleasure is subversive- seeking or intended to subvert an established system or institution.- guess what happens.  Not hard to figure out- if you think for yourself.  But if you do for others- you are doing good.  That is what they say.  That is why soldiers who obey orders without question are called well-disciplined.  And that is a good thing.  Children need discipline. Don’t they. The act of thinking is doing something. Isn’t it. Where is the paradox or paradigm.

Still stands the forest primeval; but under the shade of its branches
Dwells another race, with other customs and language.

See and accept what’s going on is what the ghost dancers did.  Leap about and chant in tongues like Shakespeare without furniture. It’s a gift to be simple. The war face.  Game face they called it later when the dog soldiers were gone.  Touch the left temple and return your salute.  It is the blind eye we turned for so many years because of what was going on child.  You will understand soon enough.  Soon you will forget more than eye ever knew.  You will stand taller than I ever flew.  I will be beyond the stars looking up at you.  Tituba will show you the way.  Mine eyes have seen the glory.  There is no promised land. 

This time, of course, many observers are watching and they’ll know what to look for. The result could easily be an election the outcome of which won’t be accepted by either party, sparking an invitation to broad civil disorder. I’m not much of a praying man, but tomorrow I’ll get down on my knees for a few words with The Manager.  I get the answering machine and lolled.  Always the same message always funny. When can we expect a check.  After lights out and everybody is under the blanket with their torch.  Or on the wrong porch.  There are some funny observers out there for sure.  Hard to tell if what you see is Whittier.

In her attic window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was loyal yet.

Not what you get you bet.