My first year in college, I was super into music. I played guitar and joined a campus band and went to see other bands every chance I got.
But I was too young to go to bars, so I often had to sneak into shows or find other ways to watch and learn from other guitarists. I desperately needed a fake ID.
In Portland, we have the recent phenomenon of people not having license plates on their cars. Shouldn’t everyone have license plates on their cars?
When I returned home that summer, I went to great lengths to get an official Oregon state ID with a birth year on it that would make me 21. Not a cheap fake one. A real ID. I possibly committed a felony in the process.
So for the next two years, I saw a lot of bands and musicians. In my mind, access to live music was definitely worth the risk.
Judgment day
When I think back to this episode in my life, I’m shocked I had the nerve to pull this off. I not only misrepresented myself on official documents, but I straight-up lied to my local DMV!
Sure, it was the 1980s. So it was much harder to check. But still …
I also imagine what would have happened if I’d been caught and ended up in front of a judge. How would I have defended myself?
I would probably have just told the truth: I was in a band. I needed to see other bands. Music was my great love. I wasn’t doing it for the alcohol.
And how would the judge have reacted?
He would have looked at me, a nice kid, in college, not an actual criminal.
He would have been older, my parents’ age, most likely male, most likely white, like me.
He would have probably had kids my age. Maybe a kid who was into music.
And he would have thought about his own life and the time he snuck in somewhere, maybe to an R-rated movie or a local burlesque show.
And if I were respectful and showed remorse, I probably would not have been dealt with too severely. Probation, community service. No real harm. No real foul.
Back to the future
But then I think: What would happen in that same situation now? What if my college student self lied to the DMV in 2025? And got caught?
For starters, the judge could be of either sex. And might be of any race.
If the judge weren’t white, there would be the danger the judge would look at me and think: “white privilege.” Or the judge would have other feelings of resentment, since our media and societal messaging relentlessly emphasize all the unfair advantages white people have.
And being male and aggressively pursuing a dream like “becoming a good guitarist” might annoy a female judge. Men aggressively pursuing things was part of the reason women have been held back throughout history.
Also, such a crime would seem much more serious. Our current society demands constant proof and verification of our identities at all times.
No, in 2025, you would be dealing with state authorities that, at best, didn’t like you and, at worst, considered you a threat.
There would be no “boys will be boys” leniency. This was the GOVERNMENT you were dealing with. Which is not your friend. And is not your family. THE GOVERNMENT doesn’t love you.
Love is love
It sounds weird to say that a government “loves” or “doesn’t love” its citizens.
And yet, when I was 16 and filling out my first 1040 tax form for my after-school gas-station job, I remember the feeling I had for the people I was giving my tax money to. That feeling was a kind of love.
I didn’t mind paying my taxes. I understood the concept. We all give money to the government. And it builds roads and bridges. It employs school teachers, firemen, the police. It tries to take care of the citizens.
In those days, the state taxes in Oregon were so low, it was almost a joke. When I mailed my tax form, I imagined it arriving at some modest building, surrounded by mountains and trees.
I pictured our “state employees” as a small cadre of park ranger types and a handful of nice ladies who worked in the office. That’s how sparsely populated our state was.
If the state of Oregon sent you a letter, it was probably a notice telling you when deer hunting season began.
My taxes also paid for the Coast Guard, which bravely rescued fishermen from sinking boats. And the local sheriff, who, if he busted your high school keg party, didn’t come down on you too hard, because he used to throw keg parties too.
In other words, I didn’t mind paying my taxes because I felt loved by these people. I felt loved by my federal government too. Didn’t it build the national parks and send people to the moon? And make cars safer? And issue cool postage stamps honoring Elvis and the Beatles?
From what I could see, the main concern of all these people was keeping me safe. And making everyone’s life a little better.
In this way, my country loved me. Maybe not in a particular way. But in a general way. Weren’t we one nation, under God, indivisible, and all that?
Weren’t we all in this together?
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The unloved generation
So what do young people think now? Do they believe their country loves them? I kind of doubt it. But I don’t know. I’m not 16 anymore.
One way a country can show love for its people is by being consistent, like enforcing the law the same for everyone, so that everybody feels valued.
In Portland, we have the recent phenomenon of people not having license plates on their cars. Shouldn’t everyone have license plates on their cars?
This is just one small thing. But I see it every day. Cars, driving around, without front or back license plates. Shouldn’t the police stop them and give them a ticket for “lack of license plates”?
But the police don’t do that. City officials have reduced their numbers and limited their authority. This has caused crime to increase. So the police don’t have time to stop people for lack of license plates.
So now, if you get in an accident with someone without license plates, the car can just drive away, and there’s nothing you can do. This makes people feel helpless. And distrustful. And unprotected. And unloved.
Turning Japanese
I visited Tokyo recently. The Japanese are very strange, with their complicated language and unique culture.
But one thing I felt very strongly. Their country loved them. You could feel it in the air.
They had corruption and politics and all the usual human problems. But overall, there was obvious love. You saw it everywhere.
The government gave old people jobs to make them feel useful. It built incredible subways and infrastructure to make workers’ lives easier.
People were quick to come to each other’s aid. They respected each other’s property. They didn’t litter. They didn’t steal. They treated each other with great kindness and consideration.
Their country loved them. And because of that, they felt inspired to love each other.
It’s an odd point to make, I know. But just imagine if your country loved you. Wouldn’t that be nice? Wouldn’t that be the best feeling in the world?
Taxes, One nation under god, Lifestyle, Portland oregan, Portland, Government, First person
