Van Beek: A protest … groovy
For many of our residents, protesting brings romanticized thoughts of tie-dye shirts, bell-bottom jeans, head bandanas, Jimi Hendrix at Woodstock, peace, love, and grass (not the lawn type). Some would call them the good ol’ days.
In our humorous trip down memory lane, our parents might recollect the following from their 60s era, the epitome of protesting. If you weren’t a square, you’d pick a protest that you could get jazzed about. It was also a time to jam with friends, look cool, be hip, and have a far-out, gnarly time.
It was all about peace, love, and flower power, and we were stoked! We had rights … the First Amendment in action. Free speech was boss, and when accompanied by a jam session, it was a gas. The deuce ruled, and everyone wore that peace sign on their tie-dyed shirts as an emblem of a transformational generation. We blitzed the community with Andy Warhol, Bob Dylan, and Twiggy. Our world was outta sight. You should have been there — it was way out!
Before making tracks to our next protest, we made sure not to show up looking grody. After running a brush through our long hair, slipping into our threads and Birkenstocks, and finishing off with our trend-setting round shades … we looked anything but lame. Our gals selected their best pedal pushers and tennies, with matching ponytail ribbons, looking totally fab. Some would toke Mary Jane before truckin’ out the door.
Of course, we had to schedule protests on the weekends so that our teacher wouldn’t flip her wig. You can bet your bippy that the protest had to be scheduled during the day, so as not to interfere with our Friday night submarine races.
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We’d head out, peeling rubber in our souped-up cruiser, with four-on-the-floor, our steady girl riding shotgun, while thinking about our midnight race for the pinks.
Just as today, we wanted to have an impact, but we also knew that going too far was a downer, and our message would get lost faster than a suit at a drag race.
Nothing was groovy about going to jail. While we exercised our rights, we had to make sure things didn’t get too hairy. There were limits to our expression of the First Amendment, and we occasionally pushed them, but ultimately sought to maintain boundaries of respect … to our fellow protesters, to our neighbors, with whom we shared our daily lives, and to the fuzz, who also kept us safe.
We didn’t want anyone getting uptight. No destroying property, endangering people, or trampling on another’s rights. Plus, we weren’t cruisin’ for a brusin’ … peace was our motto, and we didn’t want people freaking out. Law-breaking would defy our purpose, and things could get really heavy. Can you dig it?
We’d then bug out to crash at our pad, for some serious necking, followed by mellowing in front of the boob tube, watching some chrome-dome complain about hippies.
All fun aside … today, in Eagle County, we face the same concerns as our parents did in the ’60s and as others do across the country. There is much global turmoil and national disruption that is causing distress within communities. The uncertainty of change is distressful for everyone.
As a nation designed “for the people,” protesting displeasure with our government leadership is protected within the First Amendment. As with all rights, we must be cautious not to abuse the privilege of our nation. Respect for one another, regardless of political viewpoint, religion, or race, among other differentiations, is critical to getting your voice heard and inspiring change.
We live in a close community and the ability to disagree, while also maintaining friendships is essential to our overall harmony. The people on the other side of these issues are the same people we work with, go to school with, shop, and enjoy life with … don’t blow it over a different perspective. Of course, it should go without saying, stay within the boundaries of the law.
Peace out.
James van Beek is the Eagle County sheriff. You can reach him at james.vanbeek@eaglecounty.us.
