Carol and I finally broke down and bought ourselves clear backpacks. You know the kind I’m talking about. A bunch of different types of kid toys are often packaged in sturdy, clear bags with straps for carrying them around. Our kids would use them to store their Legos in or to stuff random items into for sleepovers at friend’s houses. Sam and Denali are 21 now, those clear vinyl bags and the items that once filled them up are long gone to various thrift stores and yard sales. Had I been prescient, I could have held onto a couple of those bags and saved the $24.95 each that we just spent on two clear backpacks at Target.

It’s ironic, an item that you’d often throw away once emptied of its contents is now an essential item for anyone wanting to attend a public event. Now we all have to buy clear backpacks.

Before fanatics flew passenger jets into skyscrapers or detonated bombs in crowds of people, before disturbed and angry young men with unfettered access to guns walked into schools or other public places and opened fire, attending a concert or play or outdoor festival was as easy as simply showing your ticket and walking through the gate. Yes, there was the cursory search of your bag but that was just to keep out the bottles and cans. There were no “No Weapons” signs because at that time our country wasn’t yet completely awash in guns. Before 9-11, the security at the airport was still strict but fairly low key. You kept your shoes, hat and belt on and sauntered through to your flight. Of course now you’re required to nearly strip before entering that little chamber to be body scanned. It feels like I’m about to be beamed up to the USS Enterprise.

I attended a concert recently at the now totally corporate Shoreline Amphitheater. I’m not exaggerating when I say the security requirements for entry there are nearly as stringent as TSA. It was awful and dehumanizing. I voiced my opinions to the security person about all of this. Her response: “That’s the state of the world we live in.” Hearing such a stark but spot-on reminder put a bit of a damper on my enthusiasm for the imminent appearance of Neil Young on stage.

Unless you’ve been living in isolation these past few years, I‘m sure you’re aware that a clear bag/backpack is now required if you want to bring your personal items into a public event. There are metal detectors and body scans and even the occasional pat-down too. How the hell has it come to this? Fear and suspicion  hang over us like a cloud. The lingering effects of Covid and the unspeakable horrors of mass shootings along with the rise to power of a mentally unstable and racist demagogue to the presidency has got us all on edge. As horrible as Tump is, in many ways he’s just reflecting and amplifying the times we live in. Instead of trying to calm things down, you know, lower the heat just a bit POTUS pours an endless stream of gasoline onto the conflagration that is the United Sates of America in 2025.

Look, I get what’s behind the intense airport security and the clear backpacks, but I also remember what life was like before all of this insanity and that’s what makes my acceptance of it all that much more difficult. I’m a child of the 1960s and 70s, turbulent in their own right for sure but definitely a gentler, simpler time. I find myself inhabiting a world that becomes more and more incomprehensible with each passing day.

These clear backpacks do have their upsides though. For example, Carol and I attended the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival in San Francisco last weekend where I was able to freely indulge my voyeuristic tendencies by looking into people’s personal things without having to be sneaky about it. You can learn a lot about someone by what they carry around  with them. I suspect that these “new” backpacks have been a boon for criminals too. Think about it. Your valuables are now on display for all eyes to see, including the sharp eyes and deft fingers of a thief. But… I still want to travel so to the airport I go. I still want to cheer on my beloved San Francisco Giants at the ballpark. I still want to dance with my sweetie and all of our friends at music festivals. So… I throw all of my shit into my $24.95 Target special clear backpack, hoist it onto my back and soldier on.