Better Angels
Naïveté /ˌnäˌēv(ə)ˈtā, / noun 1) the quality of being naïve; lack of experience, wisdom, or judgment. 2) innocence or unsophistication.
Of the many insults that this awful year has wrought, one of the most unexpected is a distorted sense of time. Many of the annual milestones I use to orient myself through a year have been altered or even removed altogether. Instead, we have a muddled mess of endlessly indistinguishable days, stuck at home with my children, who would rather have any other teacher than mean old Mrs. Mom. She doesn’t seem to know anything at all about math or science or reading, despite her long record of success in all of the aforementioned subjects and a couple of advanced degrees.
In the beginning, there was a sense of suspended animation. We thought we were in a manageable, temporary respite and were willing to do what it took. We attempted to make the best of it by embracing the unexpected simplification of our overly busy lives. We put off promised moments, we deferred vacations, we paused family celebrations. As a former athlete, I tried to think of it as a marathon, to be conquered one mile at a time, until, at last, the finish line would appear like a beacon in the distance. But now, I understand that there is no grandstand waiting for us. There will be no endorphin high, no medal placed around our necks.
Instead, we will limp through the final miles and fall to our knees, weeping. Looking back, the road behind us will be littered with the detritus of dashed dreams, broken promises, failed businesses and hundreds of thousands of lives lost. Some families will never be whole again. Patients will recover from the virus, but others will be permanently scarred with fibrotic lungs, weakened immune systems and damaged brains. Even those not so directly touched by the illness itself will see the course of their lives divided into the before and the after.
In those early days, I told my children that we were entering a period of history that would change everything about life as they knew it. I hoped that by giving them a clear-eyed understanding of our changing world, I could prepare them for the new realities of that world. I pored over the growing body of medical research, I closely followed epidemiologic trends, I took great care to evaluate the emerging science, all in an effort to navigate my way through this terrifying time. What I learned in those early days seemed so shocking that I often wondered if I was being too pessimistic. Why was I so inclined to see the glass as half empty? When I wrote a post back in May, suggesting that we would see 6 million cases and 200K dead Americans before the end of the year, I worried that I was too full of doom and gloom. Was I just the Chicken Little of my community when I suggested that schools should consider a totally different calendar? Was I crazy to push for the school year to start in the summer and move to distance learning in November, when community spread would usher in a huge increase in infections and hospitalizations? If only.
I thought I was being a realist, I realize now, that I was naïve. I had a grandiose idea that we would all come together. I imagined the pride we would feel as a nation, knowing we shared the same goals. I believed that we would all embrace a sense of responsibility for the greater good. Our leaders would support us with financial stimulus packages. Neighbors would put aside differences and help each other to stay safe and healthy. Creative minds would innovate new and exciting ways for us to be together while we kept our distance.
Instead, with more than a month left in the year, case numbers are double my previous predictions and a quarter of a million of our fellow countrymen are dead. And, while a certain number of deaths were unavoidable, virtually every epidemiologist and public health expert has made it clear that, had we responded differently, those numbers would be significantly lower. I could not have imagined the blatant disregard that so many would show for scientists, health professionals and, worst of all, for each other. I have come to fear that the final victim of the pandemic will be my sense of hope and faith in humanity.
Little did I know that the realities I would be preparing my children to face were those of cynicism and selfishness. I cannot lose sight of a future that I have imagined for these children I am working so hard to educate. History tells us that their generation will undoubtedly be faced with other crises, which will test their mettle and push society to another brink. If they are to triumph through that crisis, it will depend on the knowledge that they gain from this one. I know now that I must teach them to prepare for fierce combat against the forces of ignorance and mindless acceptance of misinformation.
As for me, I will try to cling to my naïveté, grasping for a last glimmer of optimism. I am not sure where I will muster the strength, but for now, I keep running my marathon and shouting into the wind, calling out to the better angels of our nature.
Originally published at http://rebeccafullerdotblog.wordpress.com on November 20, 2020.