“Be thankful you weren’t alive in the 60s.”
That’s the best I can do in the way of consoling words for young people who in the last two weeks have listened to their parents and grandparents reliving John F. Kennedy’s assassination for the umpteenth time.
If the torrent of 50th anniversary articles, symposia,blog posts, TV documentaries and docudramas, historical reenactments, new books, and reissues has left you aghast at the bottomless self-involvement of your elders, please keep in mind that the deluge this month is nothing compared to the steady rain that fell on us almost every month between 1963 and 1967.