I’ve been here before, not staring at goats but climbing holly trees at night, drawing fire from the deluded, and been there too, pawned out into the fray.
The home team was leathal, far right, fascist. I was a hot prospect even after a near death overdose of mushrooms at eighteen, which were not part of the program, sadly in 1975.
I was aware, but not told of the party protocol. Us cruits were in the mushroom program long before I stopped breathing somewhere in the air over Arkansas. I saw the light, but it just might have been a medic with a flash light checking for signs of life.
My near death was ignored in Texas, not mentioned at all to me, but everyone in Jersey knew everything, and some. It was their business to know, and I was in the trenches, back on my Jersey beach, by late June of 1976.
There was blood, and it got worse as the election neared, but the locals held the turf, and Carter’s loss was being planned before he was taking the oath in 1977. The post Nixon Party ceded to a new era, of which the old school had lost access. Behind Reagan was something wicked, not my father’s far right.
I was then, clueless, and following the script. Too busy to study the images in front of me. I was never partisan, just local, which was partisan, and all I knew. The beach was held by former marines, and my father was one. I was being groomed, and not smart enough to know it. No one talked. We worked.
I feel it, 2020. They were out there yesterday already, bravado born agains big young, dumb...late twenties MAGA types challenging all comers...Not That bright at all. This is no college campus.
I’m a field guy. I’m 62. I was better prepared for field work at fifteen then these morons in their late twenties. My how far the mighty right has fallen. They know the bible, but not the constitution...and don’t care to know. They are big, bad, and in your face folk.
They moved along, but I was late to the diner. No one got hurt, because I am a professional. I do not know if I will ever see them again, on my morning walk to the beach. I also know their controllers were watching. I’m used to having a target on my back.
But, with the beach behind me...it’s my turf. This is not a college campus. Nobody gets hurt on my beach...unless it’s a great white taking out a surfer. What happens off the beach is up to the PhDs...the same ones that run the college campuses. Go figure.