These days, a lot of our values don’t quite jive with the values of the turkeys who call the shots. As the future of the United States becomes increasingly uncertain, all we can do to reassure ourselves is look to the past for some sense of hope; a feeling that things will be better again.
Today’s parallels to heightened Cold War madness and obsessive 1950s America are irresistible. Commercialism swept across the country. Politicians warned of hidden threats from people hell-bent on destroying our way of life — whatever that is. They asked everyone to settle down into some good ol’ fashioned American pursuits. Blind patriotism was rampant, and there was a general tightening of the collective American sphincter.
Similar to the way many of us feel now, a number of post-World War II American youth felt like things needed to be shaken up, that it was time to discover a new, more meaningful way of life.
In the late 1940s, the war was over, America was in a new era and the famous beat writer Jack Kerouac began crisscrossing the states in what became a lifelong search for good times and spiritual calm amidst a world of suffering.
Kerouac always said he came from the heart. Supposedly, he coined the term “beat” to unite a sense of beatitude with a feeling of being “pooped.” He represented an unheard voice in America interested in joy, piety, existentialism, excitement, love and humanity. He wrote about America, Christianity, Buddhism, jazz, writing and the people he met, as if they were all part of one big earthly kick. His semi-autobiographical works impart an excitement and respect for life that inspires people to search for meaning or identity. He is often credited for creating a “rucksack revolution” in the late fifties consisting of young, backpacked wanderers looking for who they really were.
However, there is a lot of myth behind Kerouac’s politics. He would say he had none. Art came first for Kerouac and he typically shied away from political discussion.
Unlike most of the beats, however, Kerouac was more conservative. He had compassion for the soldiers in Vietnam giving their lives for the country he loved so much, and he couldn’t speak out against the conflict like many of the other beats. He was also ashamed that people connected him with the hippie movement.
More importantly, though, Kerouac despised weapons and killing. His respect for beauty and life was at odds with the nature of war. The lessons he taught were meant to lift people above belligerent mentalities and focus America on what really mattered.
So what does really matter?
Kerouac would say that it’s not fame or power, money or things, but life that matters. Humility, passion, joy and exuberance were the driving forces behind the poetic dynamo. He was a romantic in a time when people were supposed to be jaded; he was a true American who loved his country and wanted only the best for it — even if that meant challenging the tenets of those who make the rules.
Unfortunately, after the beat craze took off in the late 1950s, Kerouac started experiencing the fame that eventually took his life. A movement that had once been very pure and personal to him became a joke and a commercial trend.
This fame, coupled with the public’s misunderstanding of the work to which he dedicated his life, took a serious toll on Kerouac. His hope for America dwindled, and he began drinking more heavily than before. In 1969, his drinking finally caught up to him at the age of 47, and America’s heartlessness killed yet another dreamer.