Letter from a Protester Illiterate
Hey! I wasn't always this way! As a kid I think I was pretty well satisfied with the job my parents were doing. I could still skirt the issues without harm to the psyche, mine or my parents, as long as I could scurry under the bed to avoid the ignoble broom sweep.
My first memorable skirmish was the printing press boss who was undermining my importance as paste-up artist. When fired, I gathered up courage (you always need that) and brought the problem to the Big Boss. He took my case in hand, studied it and reinstated my fought-for position.
Soon as I found a better job, I quit. When you quit, it's better to have another job awaiting you. Until I was fine and well-suited, I spent my work life going back and forth. I learned it's a two-way street — very important information even if you don't know what it means. Eventually education and experience finally went hand in hand and I could be successful.
Watching so-called protesters today, I wonder how they'd handle a job. Surely, with so much time to protest, they don't work. They are so mischievous with their scary costumes and tyrannical behavior, who wants to hire them? If they still had a valid point, they are unapproachable. I have to call myself a protesting illiterate because my form doesn't fit the criteria anymore.
I believe, as an 'oldster' we have concerns to protest. Certainly we are physically limited in many cases, but not always verbally. With our kindness, courtesy and patience, we can demonstrate to worn-out kids how to do it. If you give us a chance, we have the experience and hard-earned money to guide you. An old adage holds true today: "You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar." Try it.