America at 250: Inconsistencies and Hope

My ambivalence toward America on its 250th birthday is not an isolated personal feeling.

A lot of people – Americans and others around the world – struggle to define what America is these days, as well as their place in, and in relation to it.

A lot of that ambivalence can be directly attributed to the current administration. The world has been witness for the past 18+ months (actually, ten years off and on) to the attitudes and actions of the nominal leader of this great country. Many have watched with mouths agape.

In some corner of my memories, I remember what the US was to me growing up as a little girl on Canada’s East Coast. America was the metaphorical older cousin, tall and slim, with sandy hair, freckles, a lopsided grin and a frog in the side pocket of his overalls, oozing certainty and self-confidence. If there was a barn that needed building, he was the guy you wanted on your team. If there was going to be a fight, he was the guy you wanted in your corner.

Our main interaction with America was hopping across the border to Bangor, Maine for school shopping at the end of the summer. New York City was many more levels of magnitude in the realm of astonishment – akin to the Parthenon. An unapproachable playground of the gods.

Visiting that metaphorical older cousin was a mere step down emotionally from seeing The Beatles in concert. Everything about the US was exciting and bristled with hope and possibility.

Those qualities of hope and possibility have been a through line in America’s history. They have allowed its citizens to pull themselves back time and time again from near certain disasters; homesteading, world wars, the stock market crash, the Great Depression, Pearl Harbor, Viet Nam, Milli Vanilli. Some might add the current administration to that list.

The United States of America was formed with a pretty clear roadmap laid out in its Constitution. It has traditionally been treated and deferred to as the country’s immutable roadmap with its lofty and sacred aspirations. It held up over time because its precepts were well thought through by the men who wrote it. It has lately come under relentless assault. And that assault has come from those entrusted with upholding its sacred values. The ship of state has flipped upside down.

I learned some things about my sandy haired older cousin in my ten years living in this country (off and on). The almighty dollar is a primary driver for most of its citizens. Even if it isn’t a primary individual value, the culture keeps it front and center. There is plenty of charitable impulses and activity here but far fewer social safety nets provided by government than in other countries, like my native Canada, for example.

Money is visual and palpable. No cultural constraints keep its citizens from going after or building the best, the fanciest, the best as that mantra is fed to its citizens as their cultural due. There is a collective certainty about America’s superiority that is fed to Americans which can be read as self-serving arrogance. And it may be that but it has dragged people out of the most dire of circumstances that might have crushed others. Americans love a great comeback story.

America thrives on heroes and villains. An often capricious elevation of ordinary citizens to extraordinary heights for acts of common human decency. And it reviles and excoriates its underclass whose crimes may have simply been the stumbling of ordinary sinners. That fascination with story may explain a lot. People’s fortunes rise or fall in the American public eye depending on the utility of the narrative being deployed.

The Duggar Family and their nearly twenty children held this country in sway for years on a long-running reality show. Until tendrils of evil began to erupt in the shiny family facade. When their eldest boy was accused and then incarcerated for sexual crimes, the bloom emphatically fell off the rose. It is probably safe to say the Duggar name will never regain the former reputation and respect it once commanded.

Most humans like certainty and it has been my observation Americans like it more than anyone. Rules are rules and it follows logically that if the rules are broken, consequences follow. There is little by way of context to ease the hammer blow of the system’s harsh judgment. The death penalty still thrives in this country. Rehabilitation is a precept and a word you find in the dictionary.

Navigating America on its 250th birthday and beyond appears to be a matter of weighing and accepting inconsistencies. Broad and deep-seated inconsistencies. First a welcome and open arms to immigrants to meet pressing labor needs and now system wide rejection of those who answered the invitation. It means making sense of widespread poverty and homelessness in a country so rich in resources and opportunities. It is reconciling the intransigence of gun laws when – it sometimes seems – children are routinely murdered. It is reconciling disparities in a health care system that bankrupts people when their bodies betray them.

As a Canadian with access to universal health care, I am used to a system where health care is a basic human right. That it has become a capitalist juggernaut in America is perplexing. Bankruptcy caused by illness? A health care system that actively markets its services? Marketing that siphons money away from actual care? Perplexing indeed.

I’m painfully aware my perspective and analysis of the USA today is personal and superficial. I call ‘em as I see ‘em. I believe general satisfaction would mean living amongst a relatively settled and happy population. I don’t see much of that around me lately. Free floating anxiety seems to be the prevalent zeitgeist in America these days.

If the Republic implodes and the forces determined to dismantle Democracy succeed, these observations will be moot anyway. But I choose to remain hopeful about America and its future prospects. We can hope for a generation that rises up to meet the threat that has emerged and start working toward system wide reforms.

Sure that is a Pollyanna perspective. But hey. Relentless optimism in the face of impossibility is pretty much what has sustained America all the way to its 250th birthday today. It is likely ill-advised to abandon that guiding principle now.

May the Fourth be with you!

New Year, Old Me

Hope is a wondrous thing. I’d even go so far as to say it is lifesaving.

In the face of all challenges and heartbreak, hope can rise. Bidden sometimes. At other times, it just seems to pop up. The proverbial beacon of light and direction sitting off in the distance that appears to us, seemingly out of nowhere.

I sometimes wonder how often that very scenario played out for mariners of old. In the middle of being mercilessly tossed about on savage seas with death but a rogue wave away, off in the distance, the lookout spots a lighthouse.

Hope rises. Life continues. The sailors get to live another day.

As we mark this first day of a new year in our calendar, we are similarly touched by hope for the year to come. Hope for renewal. Hope for freedom from pain – emotional and/or physical. Hope for better news. Hope for sanity and peace of mind.

It is, of course, a false construct. Today is no different than yesterday in reality. We are not Cinderella who transforms into a princess and steps into a radically altered lifestyle. Of course, at her midnight, she reverted to her previous state. But altered.

The prince she had met and dazzled set out to find her again. That particular “New Year’s Eve” did not make the changes in her life that night. They foretold them.

Change happens like that for most of us, too. Whatever deficiencies we want to address in our life often have to be faced full-on in an instant. Then the slow process of change gets underway. The outcome we want may take weeks, months or years to accomplish. Then, one day, if we’re lucky and have worked hard enough, we are there.

I had this experience with both drinking and smoking. There was a time when I could not imagine my lifestyle would ever be other than what it was. I took some sense of satisfaction in cultivating the image of a hard-working, hard-living journalist for whom alcohol and nicotine were mandatory kit in the trade. An Ernest Hemingway-compatible type of broad.

Confirmation of a pregnancy stopped smoking in its tracks. I inherited my father’s Dutch will of iron. Ditching drink took a little longer. But with almost 24 years of sobriety behind me now, I can hardly remember how or why alcohol was ever part of my life at all.

Yet through it all, I am still me. For better or worse.

I have certainly changed from my younger self. But the essence of who I am is still there. I believe it is that way for most of us. Change does not always present with glaring neon signs in our day-to-day lives. I still have laundry to fold, beds to make, meals to make and dear friends to connect with. Life goes on.

This eventuality can be a hard learning during the egocentricity of youth phase. For some that phase lasts a lifetime. When I learned the phrase “hissy fit,” I recall how mortified and impressed I was by its’ resonance. “Boo.” “Hiss.” “I don’t wanna.” Ya. That sounded pretty similar to me having a temper tantrum.

I am beginning to find some solace in the immutable fact of my own humanity. That is allowing me to ease up on myself. The big ambitions I had for my life as a youth have been abandoned or pretty much dissipated.

And oddly, I find myself these days in the exact situation I always secretly craved. A happy home life. A wonderful and satisfying marriage to a man I think is the coolest dude on Planet Earth. I had similar feelings about my beloved Yorkie, Bailey. Not that I am drawing comparisons between the two, I only mean to say that when I love someone or something, I am all in.

So I did not create a long and unwieldy and unrealistic list of New Year’s resolutions meant to kick in today. There are a few things and unhelpful habits I want to discard. There are a few things I want to do more of. Others I want to do less of.

Like watching TV news as I said recently. That activity is like voluntarily setting yourself up to develop brain fungus. Ptooey. Don’t need it. Don’t want it.

I find myself drifting back to the homely arts and wishing to strengthen my connection to nature. I want to do more of nothing and less constant of the constant unending to-do lists and busywork. It is high time.

You see life goes on with or without us. That is a hard and fundamental learning we all must get eventually. In the face of that truism, we discover the parameters of own life and what we can realistically achieve for our own happiness and that of others around us.

Peggy Lee, the legendary lounge singer from the last century, sang a song called: “Is That All There Is?”

Is that all there is?
Is that all there is?
If that’s all there is my friends, then let’s keep dancing
Let’s break out the booze and have a ball
If that’s all there is

I know what you must be saying to yourselves
“If that’s the way she feels about it, why doesn’t she just end it all?”

Oh, no. Not me
I’m not ready for that final disappointment
Cause I know just as well as I’m standing here talking to you
When that final moment comes and I’m breathing my last breath,
I’ll be saying to myself … is that all there is?

https://genius.com/Peggy-lee-is-that-all-there-is-lyrics

I’m going to follow Peggy Lee’s advice. One day, you may discover all of your hopes and dreams and expectations may sit shattered on the sidewalk outside your house.

You may be left to wonder why you lived this life at all and what it was all about. That realization has finally hit me. I’m a grain of sand on a beach. A single star in the heavens.

No matter. I have friends and some family members who love me. I love them back. I plan to keep writing and, as Peggy advises, “hope to keep dancing and having a ball.”

Minus the booze, of course.

Looking Up

I sure needed these little nuggets of joy I found recently.

In one astonishing clip, a four year old boy speaks to his mom about his emotions and how he is processing them. Four years old!! I know forty year olds (and even much older) who couldn’t get close to this level of emotional clarity. https://www.facebook.com/reel/562156025745695

Another story highlighted the business venture of a young French architect Clarisse Merlet who is making construction materials out of recycled fabrics. Bricks to be exact. https://www.euronews.com/culture/2023/09/04/meet-the-french-eco-chic-architect-crafting-fashionable-bricks

Hers is a small, energy intense, hands-on little business. To date, she has already made 12,000 clothing bricks. She has sold them as office partitions and decorative items. She is doing a lot of research to expand their utility and reach in large scale construction projects.

The concept could not be simpler and yet more profound in its potential impact. Who among us doesn’t have a few dozen pieces of extra clothing in our closet that we could easily offload? Having them reused sustainably would be a total bonus.

Kermit The Frog popped up somewhere singing a Talking Heads cover: “Once in a Lifetime.” https://youtu.be/PCY0aeUx-Ns

YouTube gold. Kermie captured my heart years ago with, “It’s Not Easy Being Green”, a sentiment we can all relate to the way Kermie sings it. And, of course, The Rainbow Connection. That musical gem still gives me goosebumps.

A writer in the New Yorker pens a comic strip about an elderly gentleman who plays the sound of birds chirping in his car all the time. It is his way of feeling like he is in the country when he is still living in the city.

More and more often, I am reading rebellious writers like me who are pushing back against the execrable weight of information overload and faceless wealth hoarding billionaires. Like me, too, it seems, they are trying to tease out and claw their way back to a sense of what it means to be human. Especially these days.

They give me hope for today and for the future. Maybe this dog’s breakfast we are living through will have a satisfactory ending after all.

And to drift into political waters that I usually avoid like the plague, Jim Jordan wasn’t elected House speaker. It looks very much like he won’t be.

That single news story tells me there may be hope and common sense at work out there in the world, after all. Sigh.

Wow AI

I would never publish something that is not original and written by me personally unless I tell you first. So I am telling you. I am a little shaken by the origin of this post. I asked ChatGPT for a three-minute article on the healing power of fairy tales to address past trauma. I have a lot of strong opinions on this based on my own personal experience, myth stories, Jungian psychology, and the repetitive and universal themes that fairy tales touch on. But holy heck.

What follows below is the result of a query ChatGPT produced in well under a minute. If there is any comfort to be taken from this alien’s ability, it is that if writers use it, they will at least have to read it before they publish it. I did. But wow. This is one slippery slope, especially for those who are not as ethically constrained as others. What may be worse is that there is nothing in this text I can disagree or take issue with. I would have been funnier though. I’m hanging on to that.

Take it away, ChatGPT…

Title: Harnessing the Magic of Fairy Tales to Heal Past Trauma

Introduction: Life is a journey filled with joyous moments, but it can also bring forth painful experiences that leave lasting scars on our hearts and minds. Healing from trauma is a complex process, and there are numerous therapeutic approaches available to support individuals on their path to recovery. One surprisingly powerful tool for healing is the enchanting world of fairy tales. These timeless stories, with their magical landscapes and archetypal characters, have the remarkable ability to provide solace, understanding, and empowerment as we navigate the difficult terrain of our past traumas.

Unleashing Imagination and Symbolism: Fairy tales have captivated our imaginations for centuries, weaving tales of heroes, heroines, monsters, and mystical beings. These fantastical narratives often mirror the struggles we face in our own lives but in a metaphorical and symbolic way. By immersing ourselves in these tales, we gain a fresh perspective on our traumas, viewing them through the lens of fiction. This distancing effect can be remarkably therapeutic, allowing us to explore our pain from a safe and detached space.

Identification and Validation: Within fairy tales, we encounter characters who embark on transformative journeys, facing adversity and triumphing over challenges. By identifying with these characters, we find solace and validation for our own struggles. Seeing how they navigate their trials and emerge stronger, we realize that we too possess the inner strength to overcome our past traumas. Fairy tales provide a sense of shared humanity, reminding us that we are not alone in our pain and that healing is possible.

Symbolic Resolutions and Catharsis: Fairy tales often offer symbolic resolutions, where the characters find closure and transformation. These resolutions can offer us a sense of catharsis as we witness the characters’ triumphs and discover parallel pathways for our own healing. Through the symbolic elements, we can explore and process our emotions, fears, and desires in a way that feels safe and non-threatening. The magical elements of the tales create a space where we can reimagine our own narratives and rewrite the endings to better suit our healing journey.

Empowerment and Resilience: Fairy tales are not mere escapism; they are vehicles for empowerment and resilience. These stories inspire us to believe in the power of hope, love, and courage. As we internalize the lessons learned from fairy tales, we begin to cultivate a stronger belief in our own abilities and resilience. We recognize that even in the face of adversity, we have the capacity to rise above our traumas and create a brighter future.

Conclusion: The healing potential of fairy tales is a testament to the enduring power of storytelling. By delving into these magical realms, we gain insight, validation, and strength to confront and heal from past traumas. Fairy tales provide a sanctuary for our wounded selves, where we can reimagine our narratives and find solace in shared experiences. So, let us not underestimate the transformative magic of fairy tales and embrace their enchanting power as we embark on our healing journey.

Ed. Note: Just wow.