Two weeks ago, a stranger informed me who I was:
"WHAT YOU SHAKING AT, HIPPY HEAD???" she shouted at me, shaking with anger, as I rode past her on my bicycle. "YOU HIPPY HEAD, GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY WAY! FUCK YOU! GET OFF THE FUCKING STREET!"
I had been crossing the street on my bicycle, using the pedestrian strip, with the light in my favor. A car screamed up the street towards the intersection, and came to a not-quite screeching stop in the pedestrian strip a few feet from me. The woman at the wheel motioned wildly that it was OK to cross, suggesting she was offended that I had hesitated to cross in front of her. Call me arrogant, but as I crossed, I shook my head to myself. For I am a middle-aged curmudgeon that dislikes driving habits that leave pedestrians and cyclists dead.
Two blocks away, I could still hear her shouting insults.
It's the Hippy Head thing that sticks in my mind. My wife did note that my beard was getting longish, and I wore an old floppy sun hat when I rode my bicycle. However, neither my head nor bicycle was bedecked with flowers. My button down dress shirt bore no slogans about World Peace. And still, I had been branded a counter-cultural protestor in the way of her motor vehicle, and, probably, American progress.
Two days ago, strangers informed me and my wife who we were.
"FUCKING YUPPIES, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO SAVE THE EARTH?" a man who looked like he slept rough, carrying a heavy backpack, walking past with two dogs on leashes, stopped to look at us, and rage aggressively. "YUPPIE SCUM PIECES OF SHIT FUCKING UP THE WORLD" He rambled on, lunging at us, then stepping back, like some kind of dance. We figured a reply would be unproductive. So we listened attentively until he left.
Our particular sin wasn't immediately apparent. We were on our way to visit family in Missoula, Montana, pulling roller bags from our flight along the sidewalk." We were not wearing particularly fashionable clothes.
"He called us Young Urban Professionals," I noted, "and we should take that as a compliment. He thinks we're young."
"What are we doing to save the world?" my wife genuinely wondered.
"Walking our roller bags two miles, for a start," I replied. We had elected to walk, not get an Uber, for the last leg of our voyage, as no public transportation option was available.
Idiotic and unproductive social anger with little grip on reality is the hallmark of our times. Those two strangers had no clue who me and my wife are, and yet they told us, definitively, what our problems were. On the positive side, these moments help me feel connected with our times. On the negative side, they seem little different from the people running for president.
The Economist podcast "Boom" explores how we ended up with two generally disliked old men with questionable grasps on reality competing for the most powerful position on the planet, and destroying democracy as they go about it. It's a worthwhile listen.
Maybe I'll start shouting "FUCKING BOOMER" at anyone who gets up my nose.
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