Like any Baby Boomer, I grew up in front of the television, but by the end of summer 2015, I stopped watching the tube as nothing caught my eye, captured my imagination or made me think. And there was no sense of transcendence, the feeling of being lifted above the violence and chaos of the world. Instead, all I saw on television was more violence and chaos.
While I’d rather read books and newspapers, or listen to the radio, I’m not adverse to viewing a classic film or documentary on DVD. At the beginning of December, I obtained from my local library a 2014 documentary appropriately titled, “The Sixties: The Decade that Changed the World.”
Produced by CNN (and distributed by PBS Video), each episode was well-written and produced, and the archival footage, including the assassinations of John and Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr., the police riots at the 1968 Chicago Democratic Convention, the race to the moon and, of course, the Vietnam War, brought back television memories from my grammar school years when I would often watch the news with my father.
As I watched each episode (sometimes more than once), I began to feel uneasy. Political assassinations, social unrest, U.S. military involvement overseas, violent confrontations with police and mistrust in U.S. leadership and the government in general would make one would think I’m talking about today, not the 1960s. But we lack something they experienced, specifically in 1968 and ’69: transcendent events.
I’m thinking of two and they both occurred during our race to the moon, in competition with the Soviet Union.
The first occurred on Christmas Eve, 1968, when Apollo 8 circled the moon, the first time that had been accomplished. As a camera on board captured the image of a blue Earth rising above the gray lunar landscape, one of the three astronauts, Frank Borman, read from the book of Genesis. My father and I watched that event in awed silence, the lights in the house dimmed but for those on our Christmas tree.
My father had swapped that day at the mill, Republic Steel, with a co-worker from another shift so he could be home for the event. While there were presents under the tree, the most precious gift was shared between us in that quiet house and among the millions of others around the world who watched the Earth rise in silent admiration. I remember that night each Christmas Eve.
The following summer, on July 20, Apollo 11 landed on the moon, another first. The next day, astronaut Neil Armstrong became the first human to set foot on the lunar surface. I, my father, America and the world once more watched in wonder. Man walked on the moon and the world stopped. Another transcendent moment for humanity.
After returning the documentary, I asked myself two questions.
Are things as bad now as in, say, 1968? Many will disagree with me, but I’ll say no, they aren’t yet. But we might be standing on the edge of an historical cliff.
The war between Russia and Ukraine is ongoing and I fear Vladimir Putin, whose political legacy will be determined by its outcome, will not settle for peace. Gaza is in ruins. People there are homeless and hungry. Here in America, the costs of food, housing and health care put those commodities just beyond the reach for many.
There are armed federal agents on city streets, and there’s the “almost war” seemingly brewing up between the U.S. and Venezuela.
Most importantly, where is our transcendent moment? Amid the violence and chaos, the fear and uncertainty, the anger and mistrust, we need an event (or a person) to lift us up. Sadly, I don’t have one for you. If I did, I would gladly share it with you, but I’m afraid that for now there will be no such precious gift under the Christmas tree.
Before you call me a pessimist, consider this: transcendent events are powerful, but rare, as are the people who perform them. Though rare, they do occur. They emerge when things are dark, if not dire. Our time will come. The right people will step forward, perform their role in history and, as a result, our humanity will be reaffirmed.
And we’ll undoubtedly see it on television.
John Vukmirovich is a resident of Lemont.