Stepping Back

Perspective and Renewal

Two weeks in Ireland at a writing conference, and a granddaughter’s Manhattan high school graduation have given me a break from the narrow environment of my office, and the thoughts that brew there. This opportunity reminded me once again how essential breaks are to our cognitive view, our courage, and our serenity.

Ireland is always a place of serenity for me. It resonates with the genes I carry from four grandparents, all born and raised there, before immigrating to America as young adults. I fit there, my face a carbon copy of so many I see, the lilt of brogue so familiar to my ear. Even my mother carried the cadence and the tone of the Irish language, though she never spoke anything but English. I heard her voice, her expressions all around me; felt closer to her presence while I was there.

We spoke almost nothing of American politics at the workshop, but it loomed, hung over us like a shadow we were trying to ignore. There may have been DJT supporters in the group, but I met none. Most of us referenced America’s current chaos with a deep sense of sadness, as though it was the wake going on in the room next door, and we were trying not to let it interfere with our work.

The Irish themselves offered pity as often as accusation. Very different from the train trip I took across Canada during his first administration, when almost everyone we met asked some polite version of “Have you lost your minds? What is happening to your country? Or as one man said, “I mean, it’s fun to watch but it’s a circus not a government.”

This time there was less curiosity and more avoidance. The diagnosis is confirmed now, and America chose no treatment. We elected him again. People asked fewer questions, and seemed to choose polite silence as though the whole subject was too embarrassing to raise in good company. Let’s move on, now. How about this rain?

Two things stood out. First their disappointment. America, the paragon of high style, top brands, sophisticated living, the country of the yellow brick road has come to this?, their expressions said. How pathetic.

Second, their underlying anger. Do you not realize how much this affects us, in the EU, and the whole world?

One young friend, who grew up in Poland but has not lived there for decades said to me, “I am still a polish citizen, but I would not vote there because I don’t feel I should make decisions for a country I do not live in, but maybe all Europeans should get to vote for the American president. It affects the whole world so much.” I’ve been pondering that since.

Are we the leaders of the free world? If so, does not that world have some say in how we shape policies that impact global trade, global relations, and questions of human rights? Although I know it will never happen, the idea would have been hard- to-imagine even a decade ago. Now, it hardly seems far-fetched. It expresses not only their fear and anger, but also the clear sense that it is America that is failing. It is America that needs help to return to sanity.

America, the idol, has feet of clay. And the whole world is carrying the pain.

But within a few days of returning, I flew into Manhattan to attend a family graduation. And my spirits were lifted. I saw young people whose attitudes and demeanor gave me hope. Yes, they were privileged kids, graduating from a private high school and heading to the best colleges in our country. But there was more. They were kind, compassionate, and full of empathy for one another as they ended their high school careers. I saw gentleness, modesty, and humility in how they spoke, and it renewed my courage.

Years ago, in a time of deepest grief, I said to my son, “We are all better than our worst moments. We fail, we disappoint, but underneath we are better than that.”

I want to say that about America right now. This is moment of deep failure, and for many of us, deep grief for what our country has become.

But we are better than this. I believe that. I will hold onto that.

I will be a part of making that come true again.