To every kid who walked out of class, to every child fearing their last text will be to mom and dad from under a desk, I apologize. My generation has put you at risk and forgotten our purpose. We, the product of the ‘60s revolutionary generation were supposed to change the world by making peace and love an agenda. We did not. We turned our backs on activism and sold out to the almighty political systems run by big business.

As a self-styled 1960s’ non-activist, I look at the young people of today with awe and admiration for their ability to organize, verbalize brilliantly their purpose, and follow through on issues that may not only save their lives but the lives of countless other American citizens. They want change and it will happen if we listen, watch, join and rail against the current political climate that worships dollars more than lives.

The issue at hand is not simply about guns, because there is nothing simple about guns, it’s about what the majority of Americans want. This is not only a Second Amendment issue, it is an issue born of money versus common sense and greed versus life. It’s about politicians getting what they want over what their constituency wants. Our elected leaders no longer represent us. They represent their donors. Their hunger is to keep their jobs, while safety and peace of mind hide under a desk.

As a 1960s’ teenager, I was too frightened to protest the Vietnam War. As a long-distance witness regarding the fight for civil rights, I didn’t have the nerve to stand up against the system.

I ate my dinner each night in front of the TV with my parents while watching Walter Cronkite speak of other young people, brave risk takers. As I ate my soup and salad, some were being attacked, and some were being murdered. There were body bags in southern gutters.

As we cleaned our plates we watched to see if my brother was among the wounded or killed on-air in Vietnam. No dessert for my family while we watched demonstrations against it all. It was a ‘60s televised revolution, inspiring and horrible at the same time.

Still leaves a rotten taste in my mouth.

Adults of that era were clueless. Some were cruel. They betrayed our forefather’s missive to stand up and demonstrate against the government, even though they knew the government was wrong.

As a scared and self-centered kid, I was impotent to act. I’ve regretted that inaction and learned that not acting also has consequences.

The non-activist guilt I carry is self-pervasive. That’s why, when I see the kids of today, as social network geniuses, speaking to the world as if their lives depend on their message being understood, as they push for new laws, it astounds me. They are right; their lives do depend on their message. They get it and they say it, even if today’s cruel and clueless don’t listen. And what is so hard to understand is that many of the people in power now are a product the 1960s. We’ve been through this before and we’re still going through it.

So I ask: What happened to you 1960s’ leftovers?

To the ones who stood up for change, the ones who put daisies in gun barrels, and spoke of love not war; what are you saying and doing now? The kids back then who railed against black injustice, and sat in solidarity at “Whites Only” lunch counters and tore down “Whites Only” signs, where do you sit now? What are you tearing down?

The ones like me, who hoped someone else would get it done, we may have quietly spoken about peace and love but, honestly, we just hoped the madness would blow over so we could attend college, take business courses and dress for success in three-piece suits or sensible shoes and panty hose.

So today, in 2018, I’m adopting a purpose. It’s a basic one. All of us should feel safe and be safe.

Common sense gun laws do not derail the Second Amendment any more than networks censoring profanity takes away the First Amendment’s guarantee of free speech.

The politics of purpose is legislation to protect and save lives.

Change begins with one loud voice. Common sense results from 17 silenced. Our purpose, their eulogy — “Enough is enough.”

Carolynn Pianta has written for The Times weekly newspapers, a product of The Day Publishing Co. You can reach her at cpianta@comcast.net.