“Let us not look back in anger or forward in fear, but around in awareness.” — James Thurber
When I was growing up, I always sought out my father when I was having a hard time with something, whether it was school, a friendship, or a work thing. He had a way of seeing right to the heart of something and not beating around the bush about it. He also had a wicked Irish sense of humor, so no problem was so awful that, after I’d spewed about it, he wouldn’t make a joke out of some part of it. Usually replying with, “OK, but other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?” It was his version of, “OK, but did you die?”
I’m sure I am not the only person looking around this week and thinking, “what is going on here?” It’s not only about the election; sure, that’s a significant event, and almost everyone feels some kind of way about it. It’s also about education and the value we place on it. Teachers are going on strike in some local communities. Parents are left scrambling to arrange childcare for missed school days, teachers are worried about making ends meet, administration budgets are busted, and everyone is pointing fingers at everyone else.
As if to mirror some of the emotional turmoil and political events that are happening, we are surrounded by multiple brush fires that flare up randomly, causing the air to be thick with smoke and forcing many indoors. Firefighters and other first responders are working long hours to keep the fires from encroaching on homes and businesses. Just when one location appears under control, another pops up, like some tragic version of the arcade game “Whack a Mole.”
While I’m not running a campaign, walking a picket line, or fighting a fire, sometimes I’m so exhausted by it all, but I think I know why. To whoever is running this universe, here’s my question: Did all of this have to happen the same week we changed the clocks? I still haven’t figured out the one in my car, and that will likely resolve when I just stick a bandaid over it and call it done. Yes, it’s only an hour, but I liked it right where it was.
A friend told me it felt like that carnival ride that looks like a pirate ship. When it swings up, half of the ship flies into the air and then comes swinging down two seconds later, and everyone on that end is panic-screaming. The next minute, the other half of the boat is losing its mind, until everyone onboard is dizzy, nauseated, and staggering off the ride like drunk squirrels. He’s not wrong.
All we can do, though, is hang on, right? What’s already happened can’t be changed. Where are we going from here? That will be a different answer depending on who you ask, but here’s an idea—how about we normalize not having an answer to that? Let’s make it OK to say, “I have no idea.”
Trust me, when everything settles down a little, we’ll all feel better if we’ve taken the time to look around at where we are. Once we get a good picture of what our friends and family need, what our communities need, and what we can do, we can get going again.
For now, many of us are taking a break from the news and social media. That’s probably a good idea; I know it is for me. I’m enjoying watching reruns of 1960s television shows, like “Gunsmoke.” Marshal Dillon seemed to handle a crisis pretty well and always seemed reasonable and calm—at least until he had to shoot someone. But hey, it was a different world in the Wild West, especially on television.
Hang on, friends. It’s a bumpy ride out there right now. If you see someone else who’s struggling, offer to help, even if you don’t agree with them or they aren’t “your people.” Look around with awareness and thoughtfulness for what someone else might be experiencing. Take care, be kind, and show up every day.
Right now, it’s really all anyone can do.
Brenda Kelley Kim has lived in Marblehead for 50 years, and is an author, freelance writer, and mother of three. Her column appears weekly.
