THE '60S ARE, LIKE, SO OVER - AREN'T THEY?

"This Overblown Curiosity About Public People's Consumption Of Illegal
Substances During The '60s Is Just Another Way Of Evoking The Decade That
Won't End."

Austin, Texas -- Am I the only baby boomer in the United States of America
who doesn't believe that the '60s were all that? In Austin, reliving the
'60s politically, socially and culturally is a religion, but my days as an
acolyte are long over.

While others remember the cars and music, I remember the poll tax and the
stubborn resistance to the War on Poverty. While others remember with great
fondness burning their draft cards, I remember being drafted. I don't
wander around in a hair shirt, mind you -- I like Carlos Santana a lot.
Forgive me, though, if I don't regard Woodstock as the biggest cultural
event in the history of civilization.

Nonetheless, growing up between the election of Jack Kennedy and the
original moon walk was fascinating, sometimes frightening, and I'm glad to
have lived through it. Unlike many of my contemporaries, I don't want to do
it again.

Every time I turn around, though, I'm having a Michael Corleone moment:
"Just when I think I'm out, they pull me back in." National advertisers
pandering to aging baby boomers wrap their messages around '60s music.
Janis Joplin sells Mercedes automobiles -- what an irony that is.

Two things recently brought the '60s to mind: one, the photo of aging Grace
Slick in Newsmakers and the goofy question asked of John Cornyn and Ron
Kirk in the U.S. Senate debate in Dallas about their past drug use.

The oddball question came out of nowhere, but it was the lead of the
Associated Press account of Wednesday's debate. Excuse me again, but Cornyn
and Kirk should never be confused with Cheech and Chong. (A fleeting mental
image of both of them in starched, tie-dyed T-shirts and Hugo Boss
headbands floated across my mind).

I could understand the question if there were some basis for it. A lot of
rumors that fly around about politicians during a campaign, and most of
them end up here at the newspaper -- but no one ever suggested that either
one of those guys does dope now or ever. Anyway, as long as they're not
doing dope, what difference does it make what they did as a college
sophomore? (Jimmy Buffett: " . . . send you off to college, try to gain a
little knowledge and all you want to do is learn how to score . . .")

I chalk it up to a '60s moment. Beating politicians over the head with
their old bongs has been kind of a fun but pointless sport by opponents
looking for an edge. More amusing than the question is the answers by
people who insist on treating the question seriously.

Never inhaled indeed.

Anyway, Kirk said he tried it once and didn't like it. Cornyn's refusal to
answer put me in conflict. As a news person, I guess I'm supposed to be
indignant that he didn't respond. As a citizen and '60s survivor, though, I
say: "Way to go, general."

This overblown curiosity about public people's consumption of illegal
substances during the '60s when that kind of behavior was common is just
another way of evoking the decade that won't end. We boomers are fixated on
it to the point where our kids are rolling their eyes the same way we did
when our folks talked about the '40s. It's tough to move forward if you're
always looking back. So, whether Candidate X did dope is a lot less
important to me than what he or she thinks about domestic and foreign
policy questions that are relevant now.

Some of those answers involve math and money, though, and don't make for
compelling reading or watching. What was it Freewheelin' Franklin of the
Fabulous Fury Freak Brothers used to say, "Dope will get you through times
of no money easier than than money will get you through times of no dope."

Or something like that; my memory is a little fuzzy, but don't you dare ask
me why.

If you do, I'll respond with more contemporary expression: "Get over it."