More on Happiness and Tears

If you are like my wife and I, we have been watching the nightly reports from Ukraine and find the scenes of death and destruction heart rending.  The horrors of this invasion lend themselves to sadness, even tears if one imagines such an event happening to one's own family.  It is these kind of scenes that are being suppressed within Russia, and are most frequently removed when the reports of war are broadcast to the invading country.  

While in America we have a history of journalists who cover war in all its gory, and in fact, sometimes leads to protests against wars we have waged, such as the details of atrocities that were occasionally committed by US soldiers in Vietnam to name, perhaps, the most vivid experience that the American public had to face, it is also true that even here, the details of the murder of civilians in those countries which we invaded, Iraq and Afghanistan being the most recent examples, were far too often watered down or outright hidden from the nightly news reports.  

My point here is that war is brutal, always has been, always will be, and regardless of the patriotism of a country's justification for sending troops to another country, woman, children and the elderly are always victims, unintended or not, of such invasions.  In the end, it doesn't matter if a bomb hits a home by mistake or on purpose, in either case, noncombatants are maimed and killed, and families are destroyed. 

As such, these kinds of stories generally lose their luster.  After the initial interest, sort of like the tendency to look out the window as we pass an accident, looking to see if there is a body, while hoping not to see one, coverage of wars begin to alter.  More stories of hope amidst the turmoil emerge, or even stories depicting some kind of normalcy returning bit by bit.  For good or bad, we stop tuning in to see bodies and to hear about death statistics.  And that is good, in a way, as it demonstrates that most of us do not seek destruction, do not believe that violence is a preferable path to peace and prosperity.  But it is also bad, because just because we stop looking, it doesn't end the destruction.  The horrors of the war continue, we just stop paying attention. We become numb to avoid the tears even though the tears continue to run from the eyes of war's victims.

And so, in the face of a choice between acknowledging that war is never good for the civilians of a country, but wanting not to see it when we wage war against the people of a country whom our leaders have designated as evil or bad or even just not like us, how does one stay happy?  Maintain a positive outlook? 

I have posted twice on this topic in the past.  The first was written in June of 2019. In it I discuss that one could argue that up until just very recently in human history, the pursuit of happiness did not exist, at least not as we know it today.  And, more importantly, how our current definition of happiness seems inexorably, and most detrimentally, linked to material possessions. The link is below.

https://wurdsfromtheburbs.blogspot.com/2019/06/happiness.html

The second was written in September 2019 and the link follows.  In that post, I am more specifically commenting on the concept of seeking and achieving personal happiness while acknowledging the global anxieties that surround us. I end the post on a positive note, a positive conclusion, with the decision that not only can both exist, personal happiness and global anxiety, but that perhaps, both should exist in all of us.  That by recognizing the reasons for our own happiness, our privileges us well as our achievements, we become more able to address the situations and circumstances of those who reside in other parts of the world, become more able to turn our empathy for their hardships into actions which might help them alleviate those obstacles. That perhaps we can only be better world citizens if we are happy people. 

https://wurdsfromtheburbs.blogspot.com/2019/09/personal-happiness-vs-global-anxiety.html

I am not sure how getting older is effecting my relationship with happiness and tears.  Certainly, I am feeling more satisfied with my current life. Being retired has removed a considerable amount of stress from my world.  Having the luxury to sit and read whenever and for however long I wish, or to just take off and visit friends or family without juggling work schedules is liberating.  But as we age, the passing of friends, family, or even just names which remind us of our youth or good times of the past, bring all the more reasons for tears.  Add to that the inevitable tendency to see our past through rose colored glasses, and it can be hard not to feel nostalgia for times past and dissatisfaction for today's changes.

In the end, I guess it is best to relish the happiness in our lives while evaluating the sadness that permeates the world so as to be able to distinguish between tears we should shed, and tears we should work to eliminate by extending some of our personal happiness into the world at large, and the lives of others less fortunate.

Thank You President Putin

I have posted two essays on this blog along the theme of thanks to Donald Trump.  The first was on November 2, 2020, just before the presidential election.  In that post, referenced below, I praised Trump for energizing the electorate as no one had done for quite a long time.  I had stated that there was a good chance that we would see over 60% turnout in that election; as it turned out, percentage of the voting age population (VAP) who voted in 2020 was about 62%, the highest since 1960.  And if you use a different metric, voting eligible population (VEP), turnout was just shy of 67%, the highest on record by more than 7% since that particular measure was instituted in 1980.  Now, one might say that still means that 3 in 10 Americans who are eligible to vote did not, and that in terms of world ranking, we are far down the list of most active citizens participating in national elections, but still, that this was the first time we broke 60% since 1968, and only the 5th time we surpassed 60% in the last 32 elections, we should celebrate progress.  If you click on the ink below, you will also read that I retracted some of my praise for Trump by detailing all the ways he was leading to doubt in the veracity of mail-in ballots.  

https://wurdsfromtheburbs.blogspot.com/2020/11/thank-you-donald-trump.html

The second one was posted on December 6, 2020. In that one I recounted the events from election night to a month before 1/6 (of course I did not know at the time what would occur on 1/6).  I detailed how, once he lost the election, he showed his true colors by actively fighting the peaceful transition of power through his false claims of massive voter fraud, baseless lawsuits, illegal attempts to sway various state election officials and legislators to "find ballots" or send bogus electors, all of which was capped off by his open request that VP Pence ignore the US Constitution and not verify the election results.  Still, in this post, I assumed that Joe Biden would be sworn in as President on Jan 20, 2021, and I felt confident that while bent and abused, our experiment in democracy will have survived Trump's inability to accept that he lost.  In other words, I was thanking Trump for showing just how strong our democracy was, just how resilient the institution could be in the face of a direct attack by a former president. 

https://wurdsfromtheburbs.blogspot.com/2020/12/more-thanks-for-donald-trump.html

So that brings us to today's post.  Why on earth would I possibly be thanking Vladimir Putin knowing that he has openly challenged the sovereignty of another country, has sent his military to assassinate its elected leaders, kill its soldiers and slaughter those citizens who stand against his horrific actions?  

For one, it appears that Putin may have under estimated the strength and unity of NATO, in that for the most part, the NATO countries are united in their condemnation of this invasion, and in making some economic sacrifices to send a message that this attack will not go unpunished.  Certainly, there is debate as to how aggressive we should be in our reaction and there is clearly no taste for actual boots on the ground.  But, all in all, NATO has shown that the organization is viable, that it's existence is important.  While I think it is safe to say that Putin also under estimated the fight and will of the Ukrainian people, that he may have thought that they would capitulate more quickly, I also think he perceived the West to be in enough disarray due to the effects of the pandemic, the ongoing rise of populist leaders who espouse a dangerous me first mentality, and the simple fact that he has been successful in his misinformation campaign to weaken democracy as a whole.  In other words, it seems that he over played his hand, over estimated the strength and effect of his ongoing attacks against governments who choose free and fair elections over autocracy and dictatorships, and for that we should be grateful that he has reminded us that democracy, for all its missteps and occasional backsliding, is far better than what Putin and his ilk represent.

Second, and perhaps a bit more subtle, I hope this ongoing crisis reminds us that might does not make right. Just because a country can invade another sovereign nation, either directly through the military or indirectly via covert operations that assassinate and replace its leaders, it should not be tolerated in a world that values freedom, not just for our own citizens but for those who reside in countries that have different cultures.  Putin's invasion reminds us that there is a huge difference between having a strong military in order to defend one's country, as compared to using it to subjugate the citizens of another.  I truly hope we remember this lesson the next time we, the Untied States of America, decides to use our military to invade another country.  I say this, not just because, no matter what excuse we embrace, putting our soldiers in another country without their consent, is an invasion, but because recent history, whether it be Vietnam, Iraq, or Afghanistan, or the current experience of Russia in Ukraine, teaches us that it is improbable that the citizens of another country can be convinced, through force, that the values of the invading country justify the killing of those being invaded.

Everyday for the past month, we have seen atrocities being committed, hospitals, schools, shelters being bombed, citizens being killed in the street, cities being starved of its resources, food and water.  And, while these sorts of actions that demonstrate how cruel Putin is being to Ukraine, and how brutal those individuals who are executing his commands are being to people, who, while residents in another country, have a very similar culture and background, we must remember that these horrific events are not unique.  All wars, whether they are called operations, or police actions, or military engagements, all wars create refugees, all wars create dead mothers, children, the elderly.  Even those America has waged in the past 50 years.  Perhaps we will remember the nightly pictures from Ukraine the next time we advocate for military intervention by our own armed forces against another country.  Perhaps we should save those images and play them the next time we are ready to perform a knee jerk reaction in the name of revenge or nation building or the halting of an ism different from our own, so that at least we can be honest with ourselves and not pretend that all military violence creates the very same results that we are seeing on TV today.

A third thing that came to my mind, similar to my comments about NATO seeming to find a new sense of unity, is the thought that perhaps Putin's invasion will begin a sea change in perception that we need to act even more in concert with our fellow countries, not less as our former president seemed to believe.  (I personally don't doubt that Putin was all too happy that Trump did his dirty work for him by casting doubt on the necessity of NATO).  Don't get me wrong, I am all for reducing military expenditures all around the world.  I feel 100% that we spend far too much money on "defense", money that could be used to provide all sorts of comforts and opportunities to everyday people.  But in terms of alliances like NATO, or any other that encourages group participation and cooperation, I have no doubt that just the fact that Putin wants us to be less committed to Europe and other like minded countries, means we should be doubling down on these type of associations.  

I can't imagine that there are not many people out there who have not experienced being bullied.  And how to bullies thrive? By breaking off the weak from the group, and by making the group hesitate to act in fear that they might be next.  Putin is a bully.  His attack on Ukraine illustrates the first tenet, attack the weak.  His goal of breaking up NATO, illustrate both his desire to separate other countries from the group, and his belief that the weaker the group, the less inclined for a group reaction to his attacks.  

Toward the idea that so often in human history, it has taken the recognition of an outside threat that spurs action, especially coordinated action, I had hoped that the pandemic might inspire global unity against that threat.  Unfortunately, it did not, which makes me less encouraged to think that Putin will be evaluated as the next big threat to the globe.  This idea, that it will take an external threat to unite humanity, is what motivated me to write The Archives, for which there is a link below.  It recounts a future where the globe is united against a threat from outside our solar system.   

https://wurdsfromtheburbs.blogspot.com/2010/06/archives.html

Lastly, and again, this is a lesson i hope we garner from this atrocity, I hope the energy crisis that Putin's actions have exacerbated, will teach us once and for all that we need to wean ourselves from our addiction to fossil fuels in general, oil in particular.  As has had happened every time in the past when prices at the pump rose precipitously, the drill, baby, drill mantra has raised its ugly head.  As if any of the other jumps in gas prices were solved by drilling for and pumping more oil! 

It reminds me of the concept that more guns will make us safer.  That if more people had a gun, there would be less gun violence, even though there are reams of statistics that show that countries with the most guns have the most gun violence, those with the least, have the least.  To me, drilling for more oil will never address the main issue, that we need to revise our energy policy to encourage energy sources that do not require us to be vulnerable to any reduction in oil production, whether that reduction comes from OPEC, or a nation which becomes economically isolated due to its violation of international norms, or because it is a finite resource, or because the profit margin had dropped below that which renders new drilling sites a poor return on investment. 

Or because the drilling, production and transfer of fossil fuels continues to add to our attack on the environment!  Yes, that old problem which, year by year, brings us closer to what may truly be the outside force that brings humanity together.  

It is always good to look for a silver lining in all things unpleasant.  Wouldn't it be wonderful, if, in 20 years, President Putin will be thanked by history for bringing to light the necessity of strength among the democracies of the world, for giving new life to the global need to reduce oil and fossil fuel consumption, for encouraging diplomacy first, second, third, and fourth before turning to armed conflict to solve our differences, and for giving new life to the need for global cooperation in the fight to combat climate change.

The Testament of Friendship

Just finished reading the last of the four books which I purchased for Nora this past Christmas. The Testament of Friendship was written by Vera Brittain, and is the 2nd in her trilogy, the first being The Testament of Youth which I discussed in a post about a month ago.

https://wurdsfromtheburbs.blogspot.com/2022/02/testament-of-youth.html

..Friendship continues the story begun in ..Youth, yet focuses entirely on Winifred Holtby, from her birth to untimely death at the young age of 37.  It is a remarkable story, both in its execution and its lessons and its humanity.  And, again, it is from the perspective of a woman, something, as I have just (sadly) learned these last few years, that is far too rare, far too neglected in the annals of history, both actual history and literature itself.

My first impression of Brittain and Holtby, is that women like this do not exist today.  This is not meant to be a slight against the modern woman, but more a reflection of the incredible obstacles that women born in the late 19th century had to overcome.  The fact is that the vast, vast majority of women from that time period did not attain the achievements of these two pioneers, not because there wasn't talent, ambition, intelligence, strength in abundance possessed by the women then, but because there was so little opportunity to demonstrate such traits.  They were in the minority simply because the norms of the times changed by infinitesimal gradations, and on the backs of those few individuals, some men, but mostly women, who were willing to sacrifice for the causes of equality, the right to vote being at the forefront.  

Even something as simple as friendship between 2 women, a friendship born out of similar interests, and one which led them to live together at various times, combining their various incomes to be able to live independently, a rarity for women of the time, led to the always present side glances and rumors concerning their sexuality, such was the strictures that they faced, and, for the most part overcame.

So yes, while 100 years after woman's suffrage first became law in America, there is still work to be done towards true equality of opportunity for the female of today, it was women like Brittain and Holtby (and so many unsung others) who fought the battles, suffered the many losses, and resigned themselves to the often 2 steps forward, 1 step back pattern that historic change often follows.  

What also struck me throughout the book was Brittain's ability to, not only convey the amazing woman she thought Holtby to be, but to make the reader believe that we know Winifred, and that her loss is not just the loss of a character in a story, or a wonderful and lifelong companion, but as a friend in our own lives. We exalt in her triumphs, are saddened by her losses, and cry as her life comes to a premature end, wondering, just as Brittain did, if we could have done more to encourage her through life's challenges, or ease her pain as she bravely fought the disease that would cause her death.

For me, the book doubles down on my recent resolution to reach out more often to friends and family, reconnect with those from my past who are interested, and, in short, take action to, not only be a better brother, father, son, spouse, and friend, but be more cognizant of the short time we have in this life to not only be the best version of ourselves as possible, but to strive to encourage those in our lives to do the same.  

It also makes me wonder if, despite the progress, whether the kind of tribalism that placed the needs and thoughts of the male above those of the female for most of history, is experiencing a revitalization today in the rise of nationalism, partisan politics, race relations, and most egregiously, policies concerning gender identity and sexual preference.  Is this the natural pendulum backwards bump that often happens in times of great social upheaval, or a more insidious trend to revert back to the days when certain types of people knew their place?

It seems so simple, the concept that all men are created equal, and that friendships between people, between groups of people, perhaps between planets of beings someday, is the positive driving force that can provide the greatest opportunity for all, the greatest chance of peace.  One thing I know for sure is that anyone who can inspire such a book as Testament of Friendship, or write one for that matter, makes the world a better place for having done so.  

  

       

Death and Friends

                                            Death and Friends

Mike tossed his reusable grocery bags into the passenger seat, plugged his phone into the charger, and displayed the Google map for directions to the church.  He checked the ETA to confirm he would arrive in time for the service, then backed out of the side parking spot onto the main driveway, and headed toward the street.  

The text message he had read the week before, was the 2nd notice of a friend's death he had received in the past month.  The first, about the aunt of one of his longest and most dearest friends, was not unexpected, but still struck him deeply.  The news about his friend, the one whom he would soon see in a coffin, followed that very same path of hurt, creating a deeper, wider feeling of loss and disbelief, as this death was very unexpected.

As Mike drove, his mind floated back to those days of youth and promise during which he first met Elizabeth.  He was madly in love with Ann, as we all think we are when teenagers, and had been introduced to many of her family during those few years they dated.  Elizabeth was Ann's aunt from her mother's side.  Mike was immediately struck by her energy, intelligence, distinctive laugh.  Of course, she was at least 10 years older than Mike, and that age difference, and his intense feelings for Ann, eliminated any thoughts about her.  Still, he had found that she was fun to talk to and be around on those occasions when Ann invited him to attend various family gatherings.  The fact that Elizabeth was a teacher also made her an interesting person with whom to speak, as Mike's nascent curiosity in regards to a teaching career had recently entered his consciousness.

As occurs in most teenage romances, time, along with Ann's college enrollment and personal growth which outpaced Mike's slower, and different path, brought an evolution to their relationship,  producing a friendship that, while perhaps less passionate than Mike envisioned in those early days, was far deeper and as treasured as any in his life.  And so, as Ann's life moved forward without him, Mike's wandered to and fro, at one point bringing him back into contact with Elizabeth.  

Mike parked in the street a few blocks from the church, put his phone in the glove compartment, and walked across the street and up the sidewalk.  As he approached the church, he saw a few people with whom he had worked, some who had worked with him and Irene.  While no one knew the details of Irene's death, all agreed that it was tragic, surprising, hard to fathom.  Inside the church, in the vestibule, Irene was lying peacefully in the casket, a single rose in her hand.  Mike greeted and expressed condolences to the family members, all who were clearly in shock at the reason for the gathering.  He found a place in one of the pews towards the back of the church, and let his mind float into the past, towards the memories he had of Irene.

Mike and Irene had worked for a large retail organization, one in which people often transferred between stores, sometimes for proximity to home, sometimes for promotion, sometimes just for a new environment.  When they first met, Mike was part time, working nights and weekends.  He was immediately drawn to Irene, amazed at how much laughter could fit into such a small frame.  It was only later he would learn the details of her life that made it even more impressive that she exuded such happiness.  But in those days, there was a lot of cooperation, a lot of camaraderie among the staff, full and part time alike.  It was Irene who called him Mikey, a moniker that only she and a few of his fellow employees of that time employed.  

But, as they say, all good things must come to an end, and for that crew, at that store, the end began with the death of the GM, the eventual transfer of some of the crew, and with the 2008 economic meltdown, Mike's need to become full time, which took him out of the district for his first promotion.  It would be 5 more years until he was reunited with Irene, only this time he would be a GM while she remained a clerk.

It was at that store, in that situation, that Mike began to learn about Irene, began to understand just how amazing she was, how her outward appearance of gaiety belied the obstacles she had faced, still faced, the sadness of her life that almost forced her to smile and laugh, rather than acknowledge the pain.  Years later, after their communications slowed, she found true love, found a man with whom her laughter could be shared in its truest form, and not just as facade to hide the sorrow.

Mike's fascination with Irene became more apparent to him during that time.  When they worked together, the atmosphere was light, stress free, yet as he learned about her, as she opened up a little here, a little there, their friendship blossomed.  So, when she was forced to leave her pretty little apartment and move in with her mom, they spent those last few weeks, cleaning, moving her stuff, reminiscing.  And, these visits continued once she was ensconced at her mom's, sometimes featuring a beer on the deck, sometimes a snack after work when he would drive her home.  Mike never fully understood what this time together meant for Irene, he always assumed she valued his friendship, needed someone to chat with, but when that time ended, Mike realized that she had taught him how to be friends with a woman, how to flirt a bit knowing it was just a way to make each person feel good, but to never cross the line, never risk the friendship for more than a hug or peck on the cheek.

As time passed, their communications gradually dwindled to emails to say happy birthday, happy holidays, or a quick what is new.  He couldn't remember the last time he saw her, heard that crazy laugh. As the service ended, family and friends moved through the church, some to the graveyard, some home. Mike walked slowly to his car.  It seemed surreal, that Irene was gone, that he would no longer receive any emails from her, no longer wonder if there might be a chance encounter, or perhaps even, a planned visit.  He had often thought of inviting her and her partner to visit, especially since his recent move to a new home, but COVID had squashed so many of those kind of plans.  As he pulled out into the street, he tried to convince himself that it was the pandemic that prevented him from reaching out, suggesting a visit, and not just complacency.

Driving home, Mike's awareness flitted back to Elizabeth.  He had spent some time with her during those years when he temporarily jettisoned college for "life experiences".  He remembered going to a hospital with her to visit a sick student of hers, recalled that giving part of her personality, the smile their visit created on her student's face.  He remembered visiting her home which was already starting to show some of the signs that would lead to an unhealthy tendency to save things.  He remembered one particular letter he had written her in which he had offered to resolve an issue she had longed complained about, although in retrospect, he wondered if that offer was rejected due to its lack of clarity or her disinterest in a change to their casual friendship.  

And he thought about the gap that marked their communications, a gap that was suddenly ended one day, 20 years at least since they had last spoken, when Elizabeth came in to shop at the retail store he was managing.  Mike had walked past her, not noticing, until he heard her speak to the clerk at the register, and instantly recognized her voice, her tone, a small sample of her laugh.  As she walked to the exit, he approached her, confirmed that her name was Elizabeth, and asked if she knew who he was.  When recognition swept across her face, she moved towards him, hugged him, her shock at seeing him quickly replaced by a big smile. He walked her out to her car, where they agreed to meet for lunch in the near future.

Mike met Elizabeth 2 or 3 times for lunch in the next 6 months.  She was still quick witted, although suffering from the occasional loss of the right words that can be evident as age and mileage takes its toll on all of us.  They squeezed a lot of catching up after 20 years into those few meetings, plus spoke on the phone a half dozen times.  Mike never quite felt the moment was right to ask her about the past, specifically about that letter.  Now he wondered if it was because he was more afraid she would say she didn't remember, or would dismiss it as no more than a crush without revealing how she felt at the time.  He had not spoken to her for almost 4 months before hearing of her death, although he did leave a few voicemails in that time, without response.  As he arrived home and pulled into the driveway, Mike felt some tears welling in his eyes, wondering why he didn't try harder, especially as he now understood that her declining health was most likely the cause for her silence.  

And, as with Irene, he felt a stab of guilt that the death of friends, even those from the past, often engendered more regret than sadness, as if some type of closure for those now gone and those still remaining would have softened the depth of feelings.

_______

As time passes, as COVID recedes from our consciousness or transforms to an endemic disease as many predict, many stories will emerge concerning the tragic loss of life, tragic loss of friendships, contacts.  For Mike, the two friends he lost during the 2nd year of the pandemic reminded him that friendships of the past are nice to remember, but new friendships and the reconstruction of old ones keeps life fresh, can keep the weight of life's trials and obstacles at bay.  

Mike knew that some of his sadness over losing Elizabeth and Irene was partly due to his regret that he didn't try as hard as he could to stay in touch, stay aware of their joys and sorrows.  He even thought that perhaps he could have provided a smile or chuckle for each had he contacted them one last time, perhaps could have provided one or both of them with a bit of comfort as they faced their final destination, even though he also knew that there was no real reason to suggest that he could have provided either of them something more than their own family and friends had furnished.  

He also knew that every death reminds us of other people we have lost, other regrets we might be carrying for things we didn't say or do before losing our parents, siblings or friends. For Mike, his dad's death already 9 years past, stabbed his heart the most in regards to words he didn't say, hurts he didn't apologize for, love he didn't fully express. Its a sad lesson, that we relearn with every funeral, every death notice, every loss.  If only we could be more attentive to the people in our lives that we love, those who bring joy to our lives, who support us when we need it, push us when required, love us with few conditions, that sad lesson may not need be learned so often.