Fear on the YBR. It comes in all forms…even in the shape of the Coronavirus.

Life for a kid growing up in the 1950s was not “Ozzie and Harriet,” “Father Knows Best,” or even “Lassie.”  That’s what my generation was led to believe, but the truth did not have a laugh track.  Early Baby Boomers were afraid of nuclear annihilation.

60+ years after the fact I still have nightmares about the monthly atomic bomb drills we had. With our heads tucked under our hands and our little bodies scrunched up against the wall we were preparing for the inevitable dropping of an atomic bomb.

Fear. It was part of our food chart, right between fruits and vegetables and protein.

Fear is what drives us to be less than human because it causes us to lose all sense of compassion.  Fear of the unknown was behind the Salem Witch Trials. Fear of taking a stand against tyrants is what led to the Holocaust.

Fear filled Dorothy’s slippers the moment she stepped foot on the yellow brick road. Fear of the Wicked Witch of the West haunted her on her journey to Oz. But, fear was not Dorothy’s undoing as it is for many of us. Dorothy wasn’t afraid of her fear. (That’s what I think FDR meant when he said “all we have to fear is fear itself.”)

The 9/11 attacks gave us something to fear, but as a people we didn’t let our fear get the best of us. Instead, we turned fear inside out and we discovered something magical. We discovered that what was dividing us as a nation was our fear.  It took a tragic incident to wake us up.

Today,  fear has once again reared its ugly head in the form of another deadly pandemic. It doesn’t matter a hoot that pandemics are a part of world history.  It doesn’t matter that the bubonic plague wiped out nearly 75% of the world’s population or that the Spanish Flu of 1918 eventually stole the life of 50 million people world-wide.  What matters is what is happening today…and along with the Corona virus fear is spreading faster than the germs of a sneeze.

There’s no denying that our nation is divided. There is no doubt that ignorance is what is fueling our fear. Our fear is getting the best of us. That does not mean to say we have no reason to be afraid of what COVID-19 can and is doing. However, our fear is making us turn into very ugly people.

It hasn’t happened yet, and I pray that it doesn’t, but our fear could drive us to turn savage. God knows what could happen between two people fighting over that last roll of toilet paper.

It reminds me of a Playhouse  90 television show I saw as a kid. It was called Alas, Babylon, and it was about none other than the dreaded dropping of an atomic bond.

The scene was burnished into my brain. People were in line at a grocery store.  It was pure pandemonium. The shelves were empty. People were beating each other up over food.  (The scene made me very sad.)

We are like Dorothy, but instead of dropping a house on a witch, the house has dropped on us and we are all crawling out from underneath the rubble. The look of fear is etched on our faces. We are beginning to fear that this is the end times.

I think we have to go back and see what Dorothy did. More importantly we have to remember that she didn’t do it alone.  She found friends with a common goal and marched arm-in-arm with them to Oz.  Even though she and her three traveling companions…and Toto, too, were filled with fear, they supported one another.

We need to do that.  That doesn’t mean we have to be care-free. We need to be cautious as cautious as the travelers were on the YBR when they were in the deepest and darkest part of the forest. (Lions and tigers and bears, oh, my. Rinse. Repeat.)  Dorothy had already embraced the Scarecrow (brains) and was filled with heart (the Tin Man), but she lacked the courage she needed to vanquish her fears.

It was fitting that the king of the forest had not yet discovered his inner courage because that’s what happens to us.  We never know how brave we can be until we come face-to-face with fear.

While we have to place our trust in the hands of scientists and “leaders,” we are not helpless.  We can relieve our fear by relishing the love that we share with family and friends. We can face this pandemic by using our head, heeding our hearts and finding the courage to do the right thing.  And what is the right thing?  Spreading kindness wherever we go. Don’t let this pandemic reduce us to savage beasts. Let’s all rise to the occasion and be kind to one another.  Don’t kill each other over that last roll of toilet paper. Figure out a way to meet each other’s needs.

Who knows, when this pandemic passes maybe we’ll all remember how kindness won the day and fear was sent packing.

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Hope is a slippery little devil on the YBR.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way.”  – Charles Dickens A Tale of Two Cities

Those words could easily be the opening lines of an editorial in any newspaper in any city or town in America. Who could argue that today is the best of times. Who could deny that that today is the worst of times.

When Dickens penned the opening of his classic novel in 1859 he was talking about an earlier time when in 1789 the poor of France stormed the Bastille and ignited a revolution that paid homage to our revolution of 1776.

It really shouldn’t matter that there have always been times like today in the past.  In fact we should be inspired to see if we can change the course of history so the people of the future can’t say that we failed to do anything.

Mass shootings, school shootings, terrorists at every corner and a people who are divided by ideologies…political, religious and otherwise.  It’s almost to the point where we can no longer say that this is the best of times.

It is far too easy to blame it all on Donald Trump.  It’s just as foolish to point a finger at the Hilary supporters and say they are sad losers.

I think we are all to blame.  While some of us thought we were on the Yellow Brick Road heading to the Emerald City, we lost our way.  We are in the deep dark forest of despair. Some of us who don’t participate in mass rallies to support political characters are saddened by our current predicament.

The Scarecrow had no brains, but he was far smarter than all of us. We are the stuffed ones filled with straw.  We only hear what we want to hear. We only believe what we’ve been told to believe.  The left hates the right. The right hates the left.  The left makes a fist and challenges the right to a fight. The right makes a fist and offers a similar challenge to the left.

How much better off if the left hand and the right hand were to work together.

The Tin Man had no heart, but he was far more compassionate and understanding than all of us. But that does not mean that understanding is indiscriminate. A loving heart is balanced. A loving heart knows that the hungry fox should not be given the key to the chicken coop. A loving heart understands that “no” is not a bad word.

The Cowardly Lion might have lacked courage, but he had far more courage than we do. He knew the difference between right and wrong. As a citizen he would have castigated ALL our politicians. He would have called them out for being self-serving sycophants.  He would have pulled the curtain away from them and showed the world that not one of them was a wizard.

Trump’s rhetoric is hollow. His name calling is childish. In short he is a hollow man. But, his political opponents are as childish and hollow.  The venom that they spew is as equally dangerous as the putrid pronouncements from the White House.

Hatred is the entree of the day. Hatred is sapping our energy. Hatred is leaving us depleted of all hope.

When the vicious animals on the right and the rabid animals on the left realize their battle will destroy them both, they will turn on the rational people who still think, who still have heart, and who still have the courage to stand strong against the raging tide of the political tsunami that is threatening to drown us all.

 

I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge. That myth is more potent than history. That dreams are more powerful than facts. That hope always triumphs over experience. That laughter is the only cure for grief. And I believe that love is stronger than death.
 – Robert Fulghum

A soundtrack for hope

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Something about Autumn on the YBR.

There is something about autumn that I like…even a little more than the other seasons. And since today (Friday, September 22, 2017) autumn will begin at 4:02 pm (EST), what better way to extol the virtues of his amazing season.

Autumn doesn’t come in like the Lion on the yellow brick road. Rather it creeps up on us often masquerading as summer until one morning we wake up and all the leaves on the trees have turned from green to a painter’s pallet of reds, oranges and yellows.

I think autumn is a season to reflect on where we’ve been and where we’re going. If summer is the season where we inhale, autumn is the season where we slowly exhale. It’s the season that gives us a chance to catch our breath.

My time on the YBR has told me that people don’t really want to exhale. People would rather hold their breath than to let it out.  I think people are so afraid of letting go.

British novelist, Samuel Butler, once said “Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits.”

Despite the political chaos that is spinning out of control like a wicked twister, we would be wise to welcome the mellow and let it wash over us.

There’s nothing better than autumn on the YBR.

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Donald Trump. Lost in Oz.

Illustration credit: http://www.freakingnews.com/Donald-Trump-the-Scarecrow-Without-a-Brain-Pictures-140003.asp

What do President Donald Trump, Hamlet, and The Wizard of Oz have in common?  A lot. Let me go right to a snippet of Hamlet’s often quoted soliloquy on man:

What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!
how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god!
the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals!
And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?

At first glance it appears that Hamlet is giving a glowing review of man. But when the quote is taken apart and the exclamation points are changed to question marks as they are in some versions of the text, the meaning changes completely. And I believe it is closer to Shakespeare’s intended meaning.

Consider the current meaning of the expression “you’re a piece of work.”  It’s not a compliment. It’s an insult.

So, with that said, if we insert this meaning into the Hamlet quote with the change in punctuation, we come away understanding that man is not noble in reason, not infinite in faculty, etc.

To Trump’s supporters the exclamation points remain. To his detractors the question marks are in place.

For a minute take Trump’s campaign rhetoric and his political moves out of the equation and look at Trump the man, the mere mortal.  Contrary to the saying about actions speaking louder than words, President Trump’s action and words speak out loud and clear.  As a businessman he might be the great and powerful wizard, but as a man, he is a humbug.

Put Trump in Oz and he would fire the Wizard and take over control of the Wonderful Land of Oz. Where the original Wizard might have put green glasses on all the people in the Emerald City to convince them they were seeing what he wanted them to see, he knew in his heart he was misleading the people. (Take note of the word “mislead.”  It literally means to lead people astray.)

In Wizard Trump’s case, he actually believes in his “humbugary.” In truth he is the scarecrow in need of a thoughtful brain. He is also the Tin Man, in need of a compassionate heart. And he is the Lion, but not the Lion who knows he lacks courage. He is the Lion who believes he is the King of the Forest. A lion who roars, rages and tweets.

I have lived through the “reign” of a dozen presidents. My view of them as political leaders means less to me than my view of them as men. I judge them using the checklist in Hamlet’s speech.  I want a person in the White House who is noble in reason, a person who is admirable, and a person who is in action like an angel.

There’s no doubt that Obama, Bush and Clinton might have fallen short in many human areas. However, they were elevated by the office of the presidency and more often than not acted accordingly.

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Crayola on the YBR. Another one bites the dust.

Word went out on March 30, 2017 that Crayola was going to retire Dandelion, one of eight new colors introduced in 1990. Dandelion wasn’t the first color to be retired. Six colors introduced along with 32 other colors in 1903 when Crayola changed the way we colored as children, bit the dust seven short years later in 1910 (RIP: Permanent Geranium Lake, Dark Venetian Red, Light Venetian Red, Celestial Blue, Charcoal Grey and Raw Sienna.

Yellow crayons have never been given their due in Crayola’s long history.  It should come as no surprise that word of Dandelion’s retirement was met with a degree of sadness on the YBR for two reasons, the first being the direct connection with the Cowardly Lion (The word dandelion is a corruption of the French “dent de lion” – the lion’s tooth) and the second has to do with the “yellow brick road.”

For the moment let’s forget about the color and name connection of the soon to be retired crayon and focus on the word “retired.”

While many people are overjoyed when they “retire,” there are some who rue the day when they are the guest of honor at their own retirement gala. Being retired is, in some ways, like being taken off the shelf.   In baseball jargon it means to be put out…not a very positive term.

With a growing number of baby boomers choosing not to “retire” either because they like to work or because they have no choice, the word retirement needs to be…retired.

We have been conditioned to look upon the time we spend toiling in the market place working or tending a career as the penultimate time of our lives.

I disagree.  While it might be our longest stretch, it does not have to be the most important part of our lives, nor should it be the defining time of our lives.

Consider this. In our youth we don’t say we’ve retired from high school or college. We say we’ve graduated.  The word graduate carries with it a forward motion.  It means growth as in taking the next step.

I say that instead of anyone of us “retiring,” I think we should say we are graduating, graduating to another level in life.

Crayola might be retiring “dandelion,” but our true color never has to, nor should it ever… retire.

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