Wednesday night’s moon, though no longer full, was bright enough to fool you into thinking that it was. It was cold and clear, as a winter evening is supposed to be. The reflection on the lake served only to amplify the already far-reaching moonbeams. It was magical – just enough to forget that we’re in the midst of a pandemic with cases surging all around us and a Senate Majority Leader who is single-handedly ensuring that millions of my fellow Americans will be plunged headfirst into the economic abyss in a matter of weeks, if they aren’t there already.
We’ve been through a lot and we’re bound to be put through more as we close out 2020.
It feels as though the entire Universe was upended, shaken and rattled to wake us up from our zombie-like existences where we simply went about our days on autopilot, not really thinking about the consequences, while a small group of passionate people tried to raise our ire about climate, racism, police brutality, income inequality, health care disparities…. And we just didn’t really hear it. Until now.
We didn’t hear the cries until the invisible enemy began to decimate our own families or our own jobs or our privileged way of life. We didn’t hear it until we were forced to reckon with a federal government so gutted and so removed from decency that we lifted our heads and experienced what we had created: an environment where our “looking out for number 1” mentality put so many adrift, with nowhere to turn for help. We finally began to pay attention when things went from bad to worse, and millions stared into the gaping holes where there once were safety nets.
We finally realized our folly when we chose a leader not because they had any real-life or discernable experience, or even any love of country; we chose because the other was allegedly so abhorrent that millions of people chose not to choose at all. And by default, we certainly did reap that which was sown. Coupled with the horrors of hundreds of thousands of needless deaths and the financial fall-out that is death’s fraternal twin, we woke from the zombie slumber and sprinted toward something that seemed to make sense, hoping like hell that it wasn’t too late. At the eleventh hour, we seem to have snatched the proverbial baby from the jaws of death; but did we? How do we know that this ugly episode will remain in the rear-view mirror?
Have we really learned from this despicable, dark period? Have we managed to change the trajectory, or the conversation? It appears there are loud and frightening forces still pulling the strings at the edges, hoping to unravel this fragile fabric we wove in haste.
While I am ever hopeful that our better angels will prevail, I am concerned that we’ll go right back to the zombie behavior once the danger no longer appears imminent.
Are we learning anything? Time will tell.