I’m watching with great fascination at the way young people are clamoring after Bernie Sanders. I suppose it’s the idealism of youth that dreams of a perfect society where everyone is taken care of. It’s a laudable notion. Is it practical? Could it really be accomplished? It seems unlikely,but it’s beyond my limited political insight to even guess.
At at the other end of the spectrum is Donald Trump who plans to make America great again but really provides no specific details about how he would do it. Yet he and Sanders, the two most unrealistic candidates in the race have the biggest crowds.
The crowds cheering for Sanders and Trump somehow remind me of that great poem by Lewis Carroll, “THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER.”
It’s a poem about this walrus and this carpenter walking along the seashore, who exhort all the young oysters along the beach to follow them for “a pleasant walk”
“O Oysters, come and walk with us!”
The Walrus did beseech.
“A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.”
The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head–
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.
But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat–
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn’t any feet.
Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more–
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.
“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes–and ships–and sealing-wax–
Of cabbages–and kings–
And why the sea is boiling hot–
And whether pigs have wings.”
“But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried,
“Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!”
“No hurry!” said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.
“A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said,
“Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed–
Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.”
The end of the poem is very Twilight Zone-ish. The youngsters soon find themselves in the soup, so to speak.
I keep thinking about that eldest oyster who just shook his heavy head, refusing to go along. I have a bad feeling that we’re all just oysters waiting to jump into the next available pot of hot water.