You Had to be There: 1968 The Year That Rocked the World

After finishing The Belly of Paris, newly translated by Mark Kurlansky, I checked out his other books, remembered I enjoyed Salt and Cod, and reserved 1968. While Kurlansky organizes this book by time rather than commodity, he presents a global view of what was happening concurrently each month, in Paris, Prague, Mexico City, as well as Chicago and My Lai. But this is not exclusively a political reprise. Although focusing primarily on street demonstrations and university occupations, he interprets such events as the cause of an all volunteer army and military control of media coverage, of the rise of image over substance in politicians, oddly traced back to Pierre Trudeau, and of White backlash becoming an underlying platform of the Republican party.

The ability to broadcast news live to my thinking, was the most critical paradigm shift. There were not longer delays, interpretations, cropping of film; news went to an hour, editorial comment seeped in, and the theater aspects of violence came to predominate coverage. All causes had to compete for air time and action-backed clips.

But being there, actually turning 21 the fall of '68 what I remember most is a palpable change in one's sense of security. Concerts on campus were no longer an afternoon with Horowitz, but hours of ear-blasting Cream; diversions were no longer sneaking into the all-male operated radio station but salvaging thrown out stuff on the Grand Concourse. Pill box hats were out, headbands were in. I swore for the first time at one of my roommates whose father was a General in Viet Nam. Graduation was celebrated with John Lindsay as commencement speaker and by the senior class doing its version of Hair.

Those few LPs that have made it through several moves and changes of equipment are cherished and blasted by my youngest son and when my other roommate visits she always asks him "aren't they your mother's records?" even when he has programmed them on Pandora.

68 has deep roots, the kudzu of America and the world. I just toggled over to Internet news and the Basque ETA says they are laying down their arms; my high school friend who occupied Grayson Kirk's office, went to the Democratic convention and to other landmark events of that year, emailed me back as he participated in Occupy Philadelphia.

Strangely, I feel almost like Tony Webster from The Sense of an Ending. I have filtered and made revisionist history of how 68 impacted me personally. Not only do I selectively remember people and events from that tumultuous year, but I pride myself in how much I've changed (or reverted to pre 1967) me. Some of that year's culture remains iconic, most has so infiltrated our daily lives that it is difficult to attribute so much to one span of twelve months. Maybe I should read 1492.