Fear of Saying (or Writing) the Wrong Thing

The wrong thing. There, I wrote the wrong thing. 

White family and friends, is it possible to get past the fear of saying or doing the wrong thing during this struggle for racial justice? Can we move forward and take action rather than perseverating on eggshells? 

Robin DiAngelo called White Fragility the idea that any mention of racism will cause White people, even White people who call themselves anti-racist, to become defensive, self-focused, angry, and/or deny feedback from people of color. If you haven’t heard Dr. DeAngelo speak about this concept, please watch one of her many video interviews. 

We say to ourselves, “If I am not going to be afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing, then why do so many people challenge me when I do something that is anti-racist and helps the cause? It feels like even when I try to do the right thing, I am wrong!” 

The truth is that we will get it wrong sometimes. While our intentions may be good, we may not yet have the skills, knowledge, or context to do what really needs to be done. We must take feedback, learn how to do better, and then try again. 

White people sometimes deflect feedback from others instead of addressing the substance of the feedback. This is a “I know what you are saying is correct, but couldn’t you say it in a nicer way?” Thus white people don’t have to address their attitudes and choices because the feedback wasn’t presented in a pretty enough box. Nope! 

“But I meant well! Don’t I get credit for that? My intentions were good. I am still learning!” Welcome to the road to hell. Intentions are intangible, but impact is real. The focus on intentions is also a deflection. The effect of our choices is the real measure of their power. No one intends to make an error. The intention is minor, the result matters. We must own those effects, regardless of our intentions. 

As we learn how to be strong, thoughtful, and reflective anti-racist proponents, we will fall down – a lot. Rather than rationalizing our mistakes and dancing around the embarrassing moments when our ignorance or racism slips out, we must take another approach. 

DiAngelo talks about asking people of color, “What would it be like if you could just give white people feedback when we showed our inevitable and often unaware racist assumptions and patterns and had us receive that feedback with grace, reflect, and seek to change our behavior? What would that be like? And I’ll never forget this man of color raising his hand and saying, ‘It would be revolutionary.’” 

Think about the power of this concept: instead of the tap dance of deflect, defend, and deny, we instead say, “Thank you, you’re right. I am going to think about this and do better next time.” Of course, saying this means nothing without real action. 

Think about the power of this kind of dialogue: focusing on the core issue, taking our ego offline, accepting and acknowledging someone else’s point of view, giving their words serious thought, and then altering our choices.  

DiAngelo is right: it might be a revolution! 

The Emotional Fallacy: The Mirror in the Media

I was introduced to the idea of the emotional fallacy when studying literary criticism in college. The idea was that, instead of evaluating a work on the characteristics and qualities of the work itself, people sometimes respond to their own emotional response to the work. Thus, we are analyzing our individual and personal reactions and not parts of the work. 

For example, few people regard those highly sentimental movies about lovers, one of whom gets a terminal disease, and we watch their relationship grow as one of them dies, as great art. However, someone suffering from an illness or whose lover, mother, or friend had a similar situation might be touched emotionally. They would identify with the characters and situations in the movie. Their evaluation, therefore, might be a function of their response and not a result of the quality of the writing, acting, cinematography, editing, or other pieces of the craft of movie-making. They like the work because they relate to it. 

Yet, people judge works based on their own emotions all the time. They like things that make them feel good, inspired, or uplifted. They recoil from works that challenge their firmly held beliefs or make them think too hard. Sometimes, they miss the real art, skill, and beauty of the work because they are too caught up looking at themselves. Instead of examining the work, they see a mirror that reflects parts of themselves. 

We identify with a character and then that character becomes a stand-in for us. We think we know how they feel. We know how this plot goes because we have encountered situations like this in our lives. The work feels authentic and rings true because it mirrors our experience. 

Or our values. A work that confirms and supports our view of the world can be more appealing than one that challenges us to see a different perspective. A work that is simple and sweet goes down easier than one that is complicated and depends a great deal on the craft of storytelling. We like pretty pictures more than complex puzzles. 

Have you ever talked to someone who read a book you read or saw a movie you saw and thought to yourself, “Did we see the same thing?”  They may make a minor character into the protagonist because they see themselves in that character. They may impose their view of the world on the world of the story. They embellish the work with their values and experiences and transform it into an extension of themselves. Their response to it is no longer about the work.

Of course, creators want their audiences to connect with their works. They rejoice when their characters and situations are real to people. However, when the response centers on the viewer to the detriment of the work, we are no longer focused on the work – but on the viewer. 

It is not difficult to play with people’s emotions using words, images, music, or story. Advertisers, politicians, and propagandists frequently use anecdotes and compelling tales to manipulate their audiences. They are so good at this that their audiences rarely look behind the curtain to evaluate the vehicles themselves. They only see their images in the mirror. 

They see themselves in the characters and rewrite the story to fit their world, values, experiences, and prejudices. Think about the responses to the first Hunger Games movie when a Black woman was cast as Rue. The book made it clear that Rue was Black. However, many people who claimed to love the book rewrote that fact in their minds. They brought their bigotry to the novel and, when its explicit features were turned into a movie, it no longer matched what they recalled from the book – and they got mad! 

We recast the world in our own image. We rewrite the story to fit our values, wishes, and worldview. We think we know who are the oppressors and who are the victims because of course they reflect what we have seen and experienced in our world. 

And if it is not the same, if the story is not our story, we sometimes ignore those aspects of the text and rewrite it to reflect us. We create a confirming and comforting carnival mirror instead of analyzing the work itself. 

But the real story, the real movie, the real world doesn’t change. It isn’t just a mirror of us – and that can be difficult and uncomfortable to accept. It can make us the pawns of manipulators and Machiavellians. It can make us allies with evil.  

Twenty Years Ago: November 2003

 I must have had a cold for all of 2003!  November in 2003 was rainy and my son had a cold, too. While later in his life, I would wish for rain to cancel baseball games, in 2003, I dreaded rain because it did not cancel his soccer games. Can you see how much I loved sitting outside watching my children’s sports? 

My elder child was trying to battle her way into the school’s gifted program. She was upset that she was not selected and I had to hide my relief, “There are so many problems with that program. If she was selected there would be more issues than if she was not. Let her do her “gifted” thing in high school. I do not see that those who have been TAP’d have any advantage over those who do not. Often, they are more arrogant and more concerned with grades. Some are brighter, most are not. This is a blessing in disguise.” Of course, my child did not agree – until she got herself into the program in middle school. Then she understood what I was talking about. Oh, well. 

In November of 2003, I was phenomenally busy, “I am fighting the overwhelmed feeling. This weekend, I’ll take my Sunday School class to Willowcreek. On Monday, I’ll get essays. I need to get a Shabbat service ready for 12/5. Mango Street and the Book Circle unit are coming up and I don’t feel like either is fully developed. I am feeling like a ton is on the horizon. My grades are done, the parent notices are due. Get me to the end of the year.” 

I was also preparing our yearly holiday card. Prior to digital photography, getting a good picture could take months: shoot a roll or two, have it developed, reject the results, rinse and repeat. Fortunately, in 2003, I had my first digital camera. However, my three editors/critics could be very demanding; they wanted only their finest images on our yearly greeting card. It took a while to come to an agreement. 

Like this year, November meant a Saturday at Windycon. Since I was preparing to officiate at a bat mitzvah, I was debating whether to see one more mitzvah on a Saturday or travel to the convention. I made the healthy choice and gave myself a wonderful Saturday of celebrating science fiction and fandom. 

It was in 2003 that I integrated my Sunday School curriculum. In 2001, I taught comparative Judaism and in 2002, I taught comparative everything else. Why it wasn’t clear to me that was out of balance then, I am not sure. Perhaps because I was out of balance, too. So, I reorganized religions by theme and philosophy, had five field trips per year, and acknowledged that, since my students were going to many of their friends’ mitvzahs, we didn’t need to go to Reform and Conservative services. They were getting more than enough of those. 

In November 2003, I took my Sunday School class for our first trip to the megachurch in Barrington, Willow Creek. It was a foundational experience for them – and for me. We have been going back to Willow Creek every other year since then. 

The dog’s issues amped up in November. It was clear that the dog was now blind. I joked, “We have decided that we need to hire a seeing-eye person for the blind dog. Well, not really, but poor PJ is really struggling and it will be a few weeks at least until he gets better, if he gets better. It is really tough.”

I took my new Humanities class on a field trip to the Chicago Shakespeare Theater. This raised my level of busyness to a brand-new pitch, “Teach until afternoon, meet with the team, come home, go back for the faculty meeting, come home for dinner and give PJ his meds and then go back for the field trip. I’ll be home again around midnight! But it will be a good day, even if it is an exhausting one.” My optimism must have substituted for my lack of sleep. 

If I was questioning the value and manner of grading my own students, the grades my children were earning furthered that process, “Over and over, I question the value of these report cards. In the short story we discussed in Power Reading today, ‘Tom Edison’s Shaggy Dog,’ Edison invents an intelligence analyzer and predicts that we will be able to ‘grade people as easily as we grade oranges.’ Isn’t that what it is all about? I read my Humanities kids’ self-evaluations. One thing that came up a few times was their resistance to our grading system. Kids want to be graded. What a shame.” 

It is interesting to look back twenty years and see who was important in our lives then and now – and who we no longer see. We used to spend a great deal of time with neighbors who had kids the same age as our children. There were several families with whom we had both family and couple dates. We don’t see any of them anymore. However, there are folks with whom we were close that we see regularly. Yes, there is a message there: relationships based entirely on the kids didn’t last.

So, teaching, Sunday School, running Shabbat services, getting ready for a Bat Mitzvah, the neighborhood homeowner association (the annual meeting had to be planned), planning winter and spring break travel, taking care of a sick and blind dog, and the kids’ activities made November of 2003 a very long month. I am tired just writing that list. Oh! I noted that I joined the school crest committee at school. Did I ever say, “NO?” 

Heavy Thinking: Skills of Thought, Part 1

One Thanksgiving, a child observed her father making the turkey. The child noted that Dad cut off a big chunk of the back end of the turkey before putting it in the oven. When asked why he did this, the child’s father said, “That’s the way your grandmother always did it!” So, the child approached grandma and asked, “Dad just cut off part of the turkey before cooking. He said it is because that is the way you did it. Why did you do that?” 

Grandma replied, “Because my pan was too small.” 

The flaw in the father’s thinking was that he simply repeated what his mother did without considering why she did it. It was rote repetition without reflection or evaluation. There was a flaw in this thinking that caused him to not only waste a part of the turkey but focus on a meaningless detail perhaps to the detriment of more important parts of the process.

What we think is important. How we think is equally so. In my decades teaching thousands of students and many subjects, I believed that the kids could be successful in school by mastering a specific set of behaviors: turn your work in on time, use an assignment notebook, take notes, go in for extra help, etc. I even made a list of these moves that helped you win the game of school.  

However, sometimes, students who did these things still did not excel. Sometimes, kids who did these things turned in work that was underdeveloped and poorly thought-out. The behaviors were a surface symptom of an underlying process: their thinking! 

I came to understand that the skill of thinking had to be taught alongside the content. How we mentally worked out mattered just as much or more as the intellectual weights we were lifting. It isn’t a matter of just doing something, it is the way we think about what we are doing and why we are doing it.

As a teacher, I understood Bloom’s Taxonomy of Thinking: When I first began to teach it, I put it on a poster in my classroom which looked like this: 

I flipped evaluation and synthesis steps because I thought creativity and connection were more sophisticated than criticism. However, as I came to think about the taxonomy, I also realized that none of these parts were “higher” than the others. They were simply different tools for different jobs. There are times when simple memorization is the right choice. Often, a simple list works far better than an elaborate critique. 

But Bloom’s taxonomy was not enough. I watched students be able to note the processes without deeply understanding the differences between them. Bloom’s labels were just another form of content. There was something else needed. 

The something else, I realized later in my teaching career than I’d like to admit, is a set of thinking skills that take the same kind of regular exercise practice that one uses for physical fitness. Understanding them, labeling them, or being able to use them simply is not enough. So here is a beginning list. I will write more about this in future posts: 

Students must be able to think metacognitively: reflect about their own thinking. 

They must learn to be intellectually flexible and be able to select the right thinking tool for the job. 

They must come to terms with their fear of failure and error and embrace making mistakes – and this skill has huge implications for grading. 

Students must understand the double-edged sword of habit: habit can automate things and it can also freeze things and make change difficult. Practice makes permanent, not necessarily perfect. 

They must be able to take feedback and listen to coaches and helpers. Students must have the humility to always ask themselves, “What if I am in error? Is there another way I could approach this?” 

Students must be their own critics, but not their own punching bags. Their self-evaluations must be focused on improvement as well as acknowledging their goals and gains - not self-flagellation (or false humility). 

They must be able to think quickly and slowly, have good intellectual reflexes, and know when to wait and percolate instead. 

They must be able to see and make connections as Bloom describes – but this also means they have to be willing to take thoughtful risks. They can’t be content to always think it safe. Again, students will not do this if their teacher grades them down for it! 

Students must be curious! They must ask questions and be willing to both find answers and sometimes live in the uncomfortable place of conflicting points of view – or answers that are not satisfying. 

The list is far from complete, and I intend to write more about this. Thinking flexibility and fitness are as important as any content. Without it, the behaviors are robotic repetitions that will not help our children thrive in a world that is changing at warp speed. AI is getting smarter by the day: our children must have the thinking and reasoning skills to keep up! 

Twenty Years Ago: April 2003

April 2003 was a mixture of familiar and foreign. I started my journal by discussing an episode of This American Life. Not only do I vividly remember this particular story, but I had recently listened to it! 

My journal was punctuated by anxious dreams. I dreamed that, “I was going to summer camp and they were making us go through some kind of medical checkup that I didn’t want. They were going to ‘open up our heads.’” I dreamed about picking the wrong waffles, being overwhelmed with bnai mitzvah prices, having my hotel bathroom taken over by a stranger, and being on crutches on an army ship! 

I wrote about relishing quiet and slow mornings (one of my favorite parts of retirement), making lots of lists (I noted that, “I live on lists”), and struggling with the change from daylight saving time (“That lost hour counts!”). April was still hardly spring; in 2003, it began with a snowstorm! 

Even at a young age, my kids were themselves, “Quinn enjoyed her day at the zoo. She is great. Jonah is so happy, he literally bounces into the room. These kids are fantastic.” They still are! 

My life was hectic and phenomenally full, “There is a great deal to do between all the projects: StageWrite, Road Rally, Humanities, Peer Helping, Confirmation, and just teaching, parenting, and day to day stuff. Stop! Don’t want to freak myself out!” And that list wasn’t even complete! My daughter had several x-rays and doctor visits, I was returning to school in the evening for SEED class and special events, the homeowners association, and Friday night services. Oh, and I signed up for an adult Hebrew class! 

Yet, my enthusiasm for teaching was powerful, “Each job is different, I suppose, but I happen to think that I have the best one around: I do good – and do well. I have seasons. I am always learning and helping others to grow. I work for the good guys.”

Over spring break, I prepared for the class I would teach in the fall. I used quite a bit of that precious downtime to grade and prepare for my current students – and I started a summer to-do list dominated by professional tasks. And I got another cold! 

There were school challenges. The return to school after spring break was like diving into a cold pool. I had a student who was unhappy with the B he earned on his essay. We scheduled a meeting to go over the essay and he brought his mother to it! I struggled with getting my website updated. All materials that I gave to students on paper were available online. This is typical today, but in 2003, very few teachers did this. 

I used the computer regularly in the classroom for learning activities. We didn’t have projectors in classrooms, so I had to get the C.O.W., the computer on wheels. The English cart was called the Literary COW or L.C. for short. 

I dealt with a case of plagiarism, made presentations for our writing tutors, proctored the state testing, facilitated the display of the Names Memorial AIDS Quilt, hosted classroom observers, and ran a rehearsal of our student performance of creative writing. After I finished the rehearsal, I thought to myself, “I can’t believe I used to do this every day!” I was so much younger when I was directing plays: Ha! 

The school selected one of my schedules! However, they also chose to begin the day twenty minutes earlier, which flies in the face of the research about teens and sleep! The staff member who spoke to the staff was a coach in favor of starting earlier. It would be great for outdoor sports. I created a two-sided chart to explore both sides of the issue and even wrote a thesis arguing against an earlier beginning to our day. I lost. Sports' needs usually win. 

April brought Passover, touch-a-truck, my daughter’s birthday party, the start of softball, homeowners association meetings, and lots of rain. I noted, “I feel drained. Tired. I know this is the normal Friday feeling but this has been a very full week and a very full day. Each day, my pocket list was overflowing. My list for the weekend is longer than it usually is.” I reminded myself, “I think I can, I think I can.”

My father and I got into a heated “discussion” about the Iraq war at our Passover seder. I resolved to get rid of my Windows computer at home and buy a Mac. I was stuck with the “pieces of c” at school. 

Yet, April was a typical month – then. I am delighted that my life has slowed down now. 

Twenty Years Ago: March, 2003

I am reflecting on my life twenty years ago by reading my daily journals. Click here for an introduction. 

If February was busy, then March 2003 was a five-ringed circus. I didn’t sleep through the night even when I was taking nighttime cold medicine. I spent much of the month recovering from a cold. It was snowy and cold and winter got its last licks in during its final month. “I think my body is falling apart,” I wrote. 

My daughter had orthodontist and pediatrician appointments, x-rays of her adenoids and wrists, violin lessons, and a performance of the baby scene from Free to Be You and Me for a school gifted program event. She planned her birthday party and, when I questioned one name on her invitation list, I told myself to, “back off.” She brought home a hat she made at school that said her new year’s resolution was to stop yelling at her brother. She yelled at her brother? When? 

We celebrated my son’s fifth birthday with a play party at the park district. Since he was getting ready to go to kindergarten, he had a marathon of inoculations at his yearly March physical and it felt like a reward (or punishment) for recovering from all his illnesses of the prior month. 

I kept track of all my appointments on my Palm Pilot, needed to replace the phones that were installed in our cars, and watched shows recorded on VHS tape on our VCR when I worked out in the morning. 

“I am the human pinball.” Often my schedule wedged my home, school, and parenting responsibilities into a small space. I wrote about finishing class at 12:15 and rushing to volunteer at the book fair at the elementary school and then returning to the high school for an afterschool meeting, coming home and cooking dinner before leaving for Shabbat services in the evening. On the weekend, we attended the school’s musical, attended a community workshop, took my Sunday school students on a field trip, and had families over for pizza and play.

I wrote that, “School is the simple part of my life.” Yet, the more I read, the less simple school seemed. I met with the Peer Helpers in the morning, taught two or three classes a day, was assigned a new teaching partner to co-teach an integrated social studies-English class for the next year, drafted on to a “think tank” to work on the new daily schedule, and moved toward performance of our creative writing event, called Stage Write. School had a lockdown drill I said I was, “overstuffed to the max.” 

As part of our congregation’s steering committee, I attended interviews and other events to hire a rabbi. We met the man who would become our rabbi this month. He did a Shabbat service and I drove him around the area. My wife felt that we should move quickly to hire him or another congregation would snap him up! I noted that I was the youngest member of the Steering Committee. Now, I am one of the oldest and most senior! 

In the middle of the month, we declared war on Iraq because President Bush believed Saddam Husain had weapons of mass destruction. My father and I saw this very differently and had some passionate discussions about it. 

I was planning trips for spring break and the summer. My wife’s mother was struggling and required a great deal of care and attention. She had an infection, then an allergic response to the medicine for it, and the doctor struggled to locate an alternative treatment. My folks returned from a vacation, were home for a week or so and then left on another one. Once again, I watered plants, fetched mail, and got groceries for their return. 

“Running, running, running. Lots to do and little time.” I went to my professional development class, SEED several nights throughout March, tried to figure out how to grade student journals without commenting on everything; we had clogged toilets, trips to the train station (to just watch the trains go by), and several dinners at Sweet Tomatoes. 

Yet, when things slowed down occasionally, I wrote, “I love lazy and slow mornings when we can get them.” Spring break was a chance to do just that, although I reminded myself to “use it well.” 

“Spring is here and summer is quickly being planned. Zoom, zoom, zoom.”

Twenty Years Ago: February, 2003

I am reflecting on my life twenty years ago by reading my daily journals. Click here for an introduction. 

February 2003 was the opposite of my life today as a retired empty nester. Although my overall tone in February of 2003 was optimistic, positive, and happy, it seems stressful and overscheduled from 2023. 

February 2003 began with the space shuttle Columbia exploding at liftoff and ended with the death of one of my heroes, Fred Rogers. My young son struggled with fevers, stomach bugs, rashes, and colds all month. Was it because I registered him for kindergarten?

During February, I was on a school committee charged with creating a new daily schedule. I created a wide variety of schedules including an eight-period schedule across six-period days so two periods dropped out each day. By the end of February, we chose this model and began to figure out how to implement it. 

I juggled teaching, parenting, volunteering, and other responsibilities. I had after-school department meetings, assemblies, classes split by the lunch periods, observers in my classroom, and meetings with my clubs. Yet, I noted that my students “were AWESOME” and days, when my classes were uninterrupted, were “joyful.” 

The pace was the opposite of my life today: I sent one child to school, and the other was either at preschool or with a caregiver. My wife and I left for school at 7 am. I returned around 1 to grade papers and get errands and tasks accomplished. The kids returned at 3. We had the afternoon routine of sports, violin practice, playdates, and park district classes. My wife came home at 4:30 as I was putting together dinner. After dinner (which was always eaten at warp speed), we would turn our attention to homework (everyone’s) and all manner of evening activities. We all plopped into bed early and exhausted! 

My mother-in-law had Alzheimer’s and was living in a care facility in Skokie. My wife visited her frequently. I was highly involved in our congregation, so I had evening meetings at least once a week – and Friday night services. I was also taking an evening professional development class. 

In my journal, I keep telling myself that I can handle it – and that I enjoy it. I think I did, even if reading these affirmations made me think I was trying to convince myself.  I remember those years fondly, even if, when looking back now, they seem chaotically frenetic. 

There were many days when I didn’t feel like a part-time teacher. After class, I often stayed for lunch meetings, conferences or phone calls, or after-school meetings – then I’d return in the evening for my PD class, a performance, or to supervise an event! 

It was also clear how much I depended on my parents’ and my wife’s aunt’s help with our kids. They took them to Disney on Ice, the Museum of Science and Industry, sleepovers, and countless activities. When we had daycare challenges, they stepped up. The positive power of my children’s relationship with my parents was clear, too. My folks left town and my kids complained about the length of their trip. I picked up my parent’s mail, watered their plants, and checked their house. 

My work life was stressful. I doubt that any workplace is without politics, but English teachers are passionate, independent, and value their autonomy. We stormed over curriculum, requirements, personalities, and teaching assignments. Should students be required to give speeches? What was the place of oral communication in the English curriculum? Should teachers be required to teach specific texts? Should all students in a given course read the same texts and have the same core assignments – and how much should they write? I remember teachers being highly judgmental about each other – and some whom I discovered talked a better game than they taught. 

One teacher was very critical of my teaching. She decided that my students were not writing enough. So, I shared my classroom website with her. All of my assignments, activities, rubrics, and materials were available online. I did not hear anything after that. It was more than a decade before that teacher (or most others) posted her classroom activities publicly. Click here to read about my use of a teacher website. 

My journal is filled with thoughts about my work. I scrutinized my choices and reflected on my students’ progress. I was my own biggest critic. For example, I posed these questions for consideration and further writing: 

“What is the balance between writing, literary study, and oral communication? 

How much focus on technology? 

Are there key texts that are pivotal? 

How does our leveling structure pan out post high school? 

How do kids use the skills we have taught in college and beyond?

Are there skills kids need in college and beyond that we have NOT addressed? 

What direction do we get from our long-range plan and Illinois State Standards? “

I got up early one Saturday morning for the College of DuPage teacher fair with our district. I met several very promising candidates, some of whom joined our department. At the end of the day, I spent an entire interview trying to decide if I should tell the young candidate that she misspelled the word, “literature” on her resume. 

I was uncomfortable with the overwhelming number of gifts that arrived at children’s birthday parties. To make matters worse, my kids didn’t really play with most of these presents. In February, I convinced my daughter to take a different approach. My daughter decided her friends should bring presents for kids at Children’s Memorial Hospital instead of for her. Don’t worry, I was not depriving my child of birthday gifts; she got several presents from us that were things she really wanted and were chosen carefully – and her grandparents and great aunt spoiled her thoroughly. In February, she and I sat down and designed her birthday party invitation and did research about what kind of gifts would work for kids in a hospital. 

And we had a violin recital, went to the auto show, had families over for dinner, trips to the doctor, took my Sunday school kids to the Shri Swaminarayan Mandir in Bartlett, and celebrated my parents’ forty-third anniversary! 

It will come as no surprise that I got a bad cold and lost my voice as the month ended! On to March! 

Twenty Years Ago: January 2003

In January 2003, I began a habit I have maintained to this day: writing every day, usually in the morning. Click here for an introduction to this set of posts. My journal entries often revolve around my family and our daily activities, and, of course, school. At the time I started journaling regularly, my daughter was 8 and my son was 4. Their schedules, especially my daughter's, dominated our lives. I drove her to various activities, which in turn dictated my calendar. She was involved in a number of activities, including playing the violin, dancing, forensics (with a speech tournament that month), playing basketball, and she had a lot of homework. I also mentioned in my journal a diorama project that I felt was beyond her capabilities, and I wondered about children whose parents couldn't or didn't help them with it. My parents and my wife's aunt appear in my journal that month often when they help transport my children from one activity to another.

I mentioned in my journal that January 29th was "crazy hair day" at my daughter's school. I have a photo of it, though I doubt my daughter would let me attach it to this post. At the time, when we were at a soccer game or school event and people asked which of the children was my daughter, I would simply say "the tall one with the hair." She had (and still has) beautiful, very curly, dark red hair, which was a constant battle to keep under control. She wished she had straight hair. When we first saw the movie Mulan, she cried, "I want her hair."

In addition to my children's activities, I was just as busy in my personal and professional life in January of 2003. I wrote at length about developing a new multidisciplinary curriculum. I was also sponsoring a performance of student creative writing called "Stage Write," serving on the Faculty Advisory Council, on a committee redesigning our daily schedule, taking an evening class in Seeking Educational Equity and Diversity (SEED), teaching Sunday School, running the congregational Shabbat services, and serving as secretary of the homeowners association. 

It is unsurprising that I was feeling stressed. I noted I had a sore neck and I was feeling a little dizzy, perhaps overwhelmed. However, I also noted that writing in my journal allowed me to vent, complain, rant, and express things that I couldn't express in other ways.

I was heavily involved in my school department. I tried to organize a departmental book club. I noted that the department struggled to have social events, and I was critical of teachers who didn't start doing their new course planning early and then complained about being rushed. At the same time, I asked myself if I really wanted the challenge and stress of those new classes.

January was a month of transition for all of us, as we were returning to school after winter break and adjusting to the start of a new semester. I didn't start writing in my journal on the first of the month; rather, the entries for this month begin at the end of the month. Next month, I’ll have a full month of journal entries to use. 

In addition to all of these activities, I was studying world religions for Sunday School. I listened to lectures on audio as I exercised in the morning. In my journal, I reflected on different philosophies and theologies, and even played around with the idea of creating my own religion, sometimes seriously and sometimes satirically.

At one point in my journal, I wrote, "I am the juggler, boy am I the juggler." This was a mantra for me during much of my children's younger years, as I felt like I was constantly keeping swords or flaming torches in the air and if I dropped any of them, I might cut off my arm or burn down the house! 

It was a little stressful to revisit January 2003, and I know more intensity is on the way. Thank goodness I am now retired. 

The Kind of Person You Are!

You are a good person. You are a person of integrity and strong beliefs. You are a person who is thoughtful and emotionally aware. Sometimes, you get angry. Sometimes, you are disappointed and feel like this country is heading down the wrong path. 

You are not racist, sexist, or any of those things. You work hard to be fair and keep an open mind. You admit that you sometimes judge people, but that is a normal human response. What counts is how you judge - not based on skin color or wealth or religion or any of those things, but on how people function as human beings. 

While you are subject to the whims and impulses that flesh is heir to, you consider yourself logical. You may not be Mr. Spock, but you are reasonable and rational. You consider a situation carefully and look closely at the details, facts, and history before rendering an opinion. 

You are not afraid to admit when you are wrong or to change your point of view when you learn new things. Like many of us, you dislike changing your opinion, but you see it as a sign of growth. 

You see disagreement as a way to discover more about other people and enhance your understanding of them and the world. Such conversations are opportunities to deepen both the relationships and your own perceptions. 

Fairness and consistency are critical. While there are rules that are wrong, for the most part, rules should be obeyed and those who do not obey them should face consequences. Although there are people who feel like they are so special that they should have the right to walk over everyone and do whatever they want, rules should apply to everyone the same way. You have worked hard to be an evenhanded person when dispensing this kind of justice and, although sometimes begrudgingly, accepted it when it was your turn to receive it. 

The only way any of us moves forward is to help one another. You believe in charity, giving, and being your brothers’ and sisters’ helper. People have reached out to you when you needed it and you do your best to pay that forward. 

You stand by your promises. You do what you say you are going to do. You have little respect for those who talk a lot and do very little. You believe that there are obligations that we must fulfill, whether it is to our family, community, nation, or the world at large. Sometimes, you have had to remind people that everything is not just about them! 

Your sense of yourself is not bound up in any one particular thing. You have strong philosophical beliefs, but you are more than that. Your family connections are very important, but that is not all there is to you. You are complex. 

You do not respect people who take advantage of the weak, old, or vulnerable. You will not be scared into decisions or let fear drive your choices. You do not like cheaters, spoiled sports, or bullies. Those who work hard should reap the fruits of their labor while the lazy, entitled, and selfish should not be allowed to profit from others’ efforts. 

You work hard to be honest with yourself. Sometimes, you excuse bad behavior of those you like or are critical of good acts of those you find objectionable, but even as you do this, you realize it is not consistent with how you see yourself. You would not want to be judged that way. 

You are practical. You rarely engage in flights of fancy, except perhaps as a mental exercise or an occasional lark. You believe that the simplest and most straightforward explanations are usually correct and when people have to twist themselves into pretzels to justify or explain something, you are suspicious. 

Sometimes you have trouble trusting people. You want to believe that people are naturally good, but that doesn’t fit with all you have experienced. You agree that most people want to be good, but don’t always make good choices for a variety of reasons. You can forgive some of them, sometimes. Forgiving is one thing, but it doesn’t mean that you allow yourself to be duped or conned. 

When you were younger, you would sometimes say and do things to get the approval of your friends or authorities, even when you did not agree with them. You recognize that this is also a normal and human thing to do, but as an adult, you do not conform with the majority when it is not authentic. You are willing to champion an unpopular view when you believe in it and you resist yielding to social pressure.

You would make a good judge. You weigh facts before making decisions. You are slow to anger. You try to see things from the other person’s point of view. The world is not just good and bad, near and far, rich and poor, but is far more complicated. 

When your heroes and leaders reveal their feet of clay, you are disappointed, but not surprised.  You feel uplifted when they make things better, and like a disheartened parent, are saddened when they behave badly. But they, like all of us, should face the consequences of our choices. You strongly believe that no one is above that. No one has the right to get away with misdeeds. No one, you insist, is above the law. That would be unfair and would cause or society to collapse. 

Of course, there are people who think the rules do not apply to them. You have encountered these people too frequently. You pity them as much as dislike them. While it isn’t usually your job to remind them that they are human, too, you have taken perhaps too much pleasure in knocking some of them down a peg or two. 

You vote. You pay your taxes. You obey the laws. You go to the courthouse when you are called for jury duty. You are a good citizen. You believe that we all should support our communities. 

You are charitable. You give to the poor, sick, and those who have had bad luck. You hope you will never be on the other side of that, but you hope that, if you were ever in need, people would help you. 

You could never support a candidate for office who you knew to be cheating, lying, or hurting people. That would not be consistent with who you are. You would never give your backing to someone who was selfish, spoiled, or hateful.  You would not turn your back to all you are and all you hold dear to follow a seductive smooth-talking charlatan! You are not a sucker or a hypocrite! You wouldn’t be able to face yourself in the mirror if you did. 

Has It Really Been Only Two Years of COVID? It Feels Much Longer.

Part1: Time

For many years, I have made a family calendar as a Father’s Day gift with photos from the prior year. The calendar starts in July of the current year. Of course, some of the photos must be older than one year because I start putting the calendar together a few months early to get it ready and printed. March is that border. The photos are from one year old until April then they are two years old. 

As I turned the page on my calendar, the photos shocked me. This was no April fool joke. They were from the first month of the pandemic. I had a moment when I thought I messed up and included much older photos. I had the opposite of déjà vu is: I felt like the photos could not be only two years old. They felt ancient. 

I have written about the experience of having my adult-ish kids return home and leave – several times during the first year of the pandemic. I have written about my fears of COVID and working hard to get everyone to take precautions. But this was different. 

What struck me, as 2020 appeared on my calendar, was the power of doubt and distance. We are just returning to a kind of normal. I am still wearing a mask when I go to a store, which I am doing more often than I did in 2020, but still infrequently. Yet, there are people who act as if the whole horrible situation is over and gone. I hope they are right. 

I can’t say the second year of COVID moved quickly, but those photos from two years ago feel further from my present. Did this year feel like several years? It didn’t feel that slow while I was living it. I was busy and days flew by.  But now, as I glance backward, the reverse route seems to stretch back well beyond only two years. 

Part 2: Weight 

I don’t think the issue is just about my perception of time; it is also about the enormity of the past two years. There were many major milestones. If I had to carry them all, it would be more than I could handle. Maybe it is the emotional weight of the past two years, the anxiety, fear, relief, and hope – and that cycle repeating over and over. 

I remember riding a Superman roller coaster at a theme park many years ago. Instead of sitting in a seat, the riders were placed in a prone position, as if they were Superman flying. However, it didn’t feel that way. I felt like I was squatting on all fours and the only thing preventing me from dropping to a horrible death was the support under my belly. With roller coasters restraints that pushed me into a chair, I had the illusion I could hang on to something if the bar in front of me released. If this Superman tummy thing broke, my only hope was that I really could fly. I guess I’d fly for a few seconds. When the ride ended, all I felt was relief. 

I haven’t become accustomed to that lack of control, helplessness, and unpredictability. I carry them with me. My mask may come on and off, but I am always carrying the concern and worry (and the mask!). And when hope appears, I am suspicious and tentative. When nothing bad happens, I am grateful and relieved. 

Part 3: Balance

Right now, we are in a COVID sweet spot. People are behaving as if they believe this whole horrible two-year-long episode is over. I hope they are right, but I feel certain they are wrong. I want to take off my mask, but I am afraid of what might happen to the people I love. 

Predictability is one of the many causalities of this pandemic. Uncertainty has become a permanent resident. Every choice feels like placing a bet in a casino, without the fun thrill. 

Reading news of the world is horrifying. I give to charities and do what I can to assist, but it never seems like enough. I am frustrated by politics. I scream at the television and lament my fellow citizens’ clannishness. It is overwhelming. I face the issue and then, having looked at it, wish I could close my senses and retreat.

I am tempted to quote Dickens (and some of you know my deep relationship with the work I am about to reference), but I am so grateful that these past two years were not the worst of times – for me. They were for so many – and continue to be horrible! There were some moments that ironically felt like the best of times. My children were home, then they left. We were all together and could support each other - and then we were apart and on our own again.

Part 4: Now

It was two years ago that the world got sick. It has only become more so and in ever-increasingly complex ways. Denying what we have experienced feels disrespectful to all of those who have suffered. Selfishly focusing on my people will not protect them. I wish the pandemic were truly over. I will do what the public health folks tell me is best for our collective health, but I am painfully aware that this is a group project – and like these projects back in school, too many members of our group are not doing their fair share. The good may not balance out the bad. Our current health may not protect us against future illness. 

Yes, I must learn to cherish now – and consider how to help others while preparing for an uncertain future. But I should not sacrifice present joys to future anxieties and horrors. I can be grateful for my good fortune, help those who are struggling, and stay grounded in this positive potential. These past decades, I mean years, have taught me how agonizingly fragile the present might be. 

The Year Concludes: Looking Back at 2020 - Part 4

November started without the kids. This had been my life when I retired, but in March my son came home, then my daughter and her puppy in May. They stayed for more than 100 days and then left together for D.C. 

My children’s phone calls were a mainstay of my day. The boomerang of a full house turning empty wasn’t working for me. I love being with my children. I love being together – and that puppy is joyful! I missed them. 

My son was could look for a job anywhere. He was networking, taking seminars, and doing interviewing – and helping his sister. It was delightful that my children got along so well that they could live together –without their parents- for long stretches of time. I was overjoyed. I just wanted to be overjoyed together. 

At home, things continued as they had for months. I kept walking – just without a dog. I walked with my wife daily and usually took a second walk listening to podcasts. 

Since we were home all the time, the house was showing the strain: the front deadbolt wasn’t turning, the dishwasher died, the light switch in the bathroom cracked, we could no longer use the kids’ shower. 

We were reminded constantly of our fragility by the ever-rising COVID numbers and the parade of passings. It felt like condolences were one of the few things we had in plenty. 

Although the election was at the beginning of November, the discussion about the results dragged on. There were constant cries of fraud without any evidence. I worried that those trying to create alternative election results would bend reality. 

My Sunday Confirmation Class was a port in this storm. My co-teacher and I had challenging conversations with our students about everything that was going on. The kids were eager to wrestle with issues, values, ideas, and especially politics. We had a guest speaker and began to take virtual field trips. 

Thanksgiving was stressful. The kids planned to return and everyone would quarantine and test. The kids isolated in DC, we did the same in Deerfield, and my folks stayed in their home, but everyone had exceptions: doctor appointments, errands of mercy, physical therapy. Beyond the usual Thanksgiving stress, we worried about testing and contagion. 

Since it was just the two of us at home, cleaning the basement moved quickly. I finally got a call from the Illinois Department of Employment Security and filed a police report, contacted the Social Security Administration, the IRS, and changed all of my passwords. It was work to ensure the fraudsters did not gain access to my digital life. 

The election was often a focus. I watched What the Constitution Means To Me. Yet, the controversy dragged on. The president would not concede despite the clear evidence he had lost. It felt like a losing team refusing to shake the winners’ hands at the end of a game. 

We had our last Loyola classes. Our teacher was in Hawaii! We learned with this group for a year and a half, so it was sad to end on Zoom. We are hoping for a reunion when it is safe. I stayed connected to the activities and people at Deerfield High School. I saw a beautiful online choral festival concert, a discussion of the fall play, and a spectacular video holiday extravaganza. 

I was extremely anxious about a dental cleaning. I have rarely been so nervous about anything. Increasingly, I worried that even having six of us together for Thanksgiving was too dangerous. We saw friends on Zoom or FaceTime since the temperatures dropped. 

Friends of many years picked up and moved to Michigan. We attended an online library program with Ibrim Kendi. I sent the woman who cuts my hair a check since I was not going to her shop. I worked hard to stay in touch with friends, family, former colleagues, and others. 

The house was quiet, calm, and very clean, but we were eager for the kids’ return They shipped stuff ahead. Days before they got on the road, my son’s computer died. We talked about backing up and data recovery. 

Daylight saving time gave us a nice extra hour of sleep. We changed all the batteries in the smoke detectors and things were beeping for a week! My wife was feeling much more like herself and we took longer walks despite the cold. 

Finally, the kids returned. I wore a mask when I picked up my rental car and didn’t realize it was a smoking car. It smelled horrible. It was only a few hours to South Bend. It was incredible to have everyone together again. 

Two former students reconnected out of nowhere: surprise blessings. My Confirmation class took a virtual field trip to the Unitarian Church and still wanted to talk about politics. I continued my book clubs, played games with the kids in the evening, and got way too excited about virtual backgrounds on Zoom. 

We had a family discussion via Zoom about Thanksgiving. We defined what were and were not acceptable risks. My son and I were tested at our doctor’s office. My wife and daughter waited in a five-hour line at the Department of Health and their results didn’t arrive until days after Thanksgiving! My folks were tested, too. Great to be negative! 

We slipped into the old routine made new by the weather. Walking the dog was now a colder endeavor, but just as joyous. My son started interviewing for jobs and was getting second, third, and fourth interviews! I organized our annual meeting for our homeowners association. We picked up food from restaurants in Evanston and walked around town. The dog had his own playdates. 

I found a way to let my folks see Zoom calls on their large TV instead of just on their computers, but I couldn’t do it distantly. As Thanksgiving approached, my anxiety grew. Planning the Thanksgiving menu was complicated. We put ingredients on our Instacart orders, got things online, and did our best to prepare distantly. 

I watched Star Trek: Voyager during my morning workouts and Star Trek: Discovery as it was released. These shows were so comforting as the world became increasingly frightening. 

Thanksgiving arrived! My daughter cooked and we assisted. We awkwardly wore masks when we were not eating. It was wonderful to be together. We hadn’t shared a meal this way in months. While we were anxious about COVID, being together was happy and healing. The next day, I went to my parents’ house and fixed all their tech issues. 

In addition to her regular job, my daughter organized a conference on teleheath with her health policy society. The kids and I played Settlers of Catan in the evenings. I continued to tutor, teach Sunday school, and go to online events. I arranged for another distant field trip with a church in Chicago and a Buddhist temple in Michigan. 

My daughter cooked and baked and everything was delicious! I washed lots of dishes! My son’s new computer arrived and he vowed to back up more often. We had another Zoom call with the DHS retirees and created a retiree directory. The dog needed a vet visit for tummy issues. 

For Hanukah, we got my parents virtual tickets to see some music shows. On the first night of Hanukah, all of us visited the Botanic Gardens for a light show. It was great to be together, distantly and outdoors. My wife could now walk through the displays without pain. 

The weather varied from quite cold to warm enough to eat outdoors. My daughter took some time off. We made it vacation-like by ordering in brunch and bringing in a few more dinners. Friends dropped off cookies and latkes, which were special and sweet. We sent notes, gifts, and thank yous. We drove through a neighborhood in Chicago famous for Christmas light decorations. 

Holiday food flooded the fridge. The dog preferred the TV remote. My wife organized a gift drive through the congregation. We had a mountain of presents in our yard! The kids watched West Wing. 

My son signed up for webinars, seminars, and classes as he interviewed for jobs. He made lists of things for an apartment. We hiked in the woods, learned to play Ticket to Ride, and dressed warmly. Our daughter made plans to go back to DC in January. The new dishwasher finally arrived! I started planning the congregation’s twentieth anniversary instead of washing dishes. 

The weather was still in the 20s and sometimes up into the 50s at the end of December, so we met my parents for outdoor walks. We thought that meant winter would be mild; we were wrong! My wife took the family to Rogers Park for a tour of her old neighborhood and stories of her childhood. One the way home, we went through Skokie past my childhood home.

We were Zooming for everything: conversations with friends, Shabbat services, funerals, shivas, and even another reunion of my college science fiction club! I helped a congregation in Michigan discuss renaming. We traveled further from home to try new restaurants. The kids put my daughter’s game console on our TV and played video games together. My wife bonded with the dog by feeding him salmon. My daughter helped her brother with his resume. 

Healthcare folks were getting the vaccine, but I was still very anxious. The COVID numbers were up and yet we saw photos of people traveling. How could they do that? We sent money to our snowplow service because there hadn’t been any snow– until December 29th. 

I was walking the dog when it started snowing. The dog loved it! He kept going outside to catch snowflakes and roll! Snow became a mainstay of his diet. 

My daughter’s work did not let up. Holidays or not, she worked ten-hour days or longer. It was good she was home and we could help her make all the pieces fit. 

As 2020 ended, we were together. I tried not to think about how soon we would be separated. The year ended unceremoniously, but we were healthy, happy, and home. 

The Prologue is Past: Looking Back at 2020, Part 1

No one would have believed, in the first months of 2020, that our world was about to explode. As I looked at my journals and photos from the first three months of 2020, I am shocked. 

For me, the year began on a tropical beach with spectacular fireworks and in the company of my entire family. I could not have been more relaxed or content on New Year’s Day. 

It was my first winter break in retirement. When I returned to the Illinois cold, I connected with friends, family, and former students. I went out to lunches and dinners, took walks, went to shows, and had an intense social calendar. My wife and I were determined to not be the isolated retired folks. 

We had plenty of travel planned. I spent a great deal of time planning our arrangements, especially to go to the weddings of several of our friends’ children and visit our own. 

However, my wife was struggling with severe back pain and could not walk more than a few steps. I did some research and read a book called Crooked. We met with doctors, but her pain increased and her mobility decreased. We scheduled surgery for February. 

I was planning for our younger child’s graduation from Miami of Ohio. In addition to the regular graduation ceremony, he would have a series of concerts. We had been traveling to hear his concerts and knew that these end-of-the-year events featured and feted the seniors. I fussed with getting hotel rooms for the entire family and the best seats at the concert hall. 

At the end of January, our son’s Glee Club sang their way through Florida, so my wife and I played groupies and spent a week following them through the sunny state and escaped the cold. 

One of the many projects my wife and I undertook was to transform our daughter’s room into an office and media room. She now lives in D.C. So we gave away her childhood bunk bed and the furniture we had purchased when she was born, pulled up the bright blue shag carpet, and started the process of creating a brand new space. We refinished the wooden floors and repainted the walls. We were certain that our daughter would never need that room again. Ha! 

We had lunch with a group of retirees from Deerfield High School (DHS) at a local restaurant called Warehouse. It was nice to see everyone. The group was smaller than usual since many people escaped for the winter. We were thinking about how we might join them. 

I spent several days back at DHS assisting the Science Fiction teachers and librarians help students select their free reading books. It was great to talk about literature with kids without the burden of grading. It was so nice to be back in the building and feel the excitement and energy of school. 

I have always been the technical support person for my folks. I installed a new router and booster in their house and replaced their nearly fifteen-year-old wifi system. Just in time! 

I got a call that a DHS English teacher was ill; would I come in to teach one class a day? Suddenly, I was back in the classroom for a while. I could only stay for a few weeks because my wife and I had planned a trip to California. For three weeks in February, I taught a great group of juniors and visited my senior homeroom. I saw my friends around the building. It was like being a grand-teacher. 

My wife had her surgery and we were optimistic. She had a great deal of pain afterward. The doctor emphasized that we should measure progress week-to-week or month-to-month and not day-to-day. However, by any measure, things were moving glacially. 

One of my retirement goals was to learn to cook. My wife and I would select a recipe or two a week, I would make a special trip to the grocery store and get all the ingredients and then I would destroy the kitchen. Sometimes she liked what I created! 

On February 6, I had a haircut. My hair has not been cut since then. It is longer than it is has been in over fifteen years! 

My parents celebrated their sixtieth wedding anniversary at the end of February. They celebrated with a wonderful trip to the big island of Hawaii. They changed their trip so they could be home for my wife’s surgery, and left shortly after it. 

I went to Capricon, a fan-run science fiction convention held in a nearby hotel. It was the most recent in-person convention I have attended. 

We attended dear friends’ daughter’s wedding downtown. It was a big party with lots of people. My wife wasn’t sure she would feel well enough to attend, but she had a wonderful time. It was a glorious and grand celebration.

We were out with friends several nights a week. We celebrated a friend’s retirement from DHS and took her to dinner. We made plans to go to Minnesota for another wedding in the summer. 

At the end of February, we left for a week in San Diego. My wife was still not walking well, but we hoped the warmth would help her heal. We flew out and stayed in an Airbnb near Mission Beach. 

While we were there, our son’s university said that two students from China were ill and were quarantining. They were waiting to see if they had the disease that had become an epidemic in China. 

Shortly after we got to San Diego, my parents called and asked if they should come home early from Hawaii due to the illness in China. They were concerned about getting stuck if air travel was restricted. We dissuaded them from doing this and encouraged them to enjoy their anniversary vacation. 

A friend posted a question on Facebook: if you were traveling on an airplane, would you wear a mask? I replied that I was traveling and I would wear a mask: I was going as Batman. Ouch. 

We followed the primaries and sent in our votes by mail when we got home. We have been voting by mail for years and have never questioned that choice. 

As the weather warmed, I took more walks. I would carry a chair for my wife. We’d walk for a while and then I’d unfold the chair and she’d rest, and then we’d walk a little further. We measured progress by how far she could go. She couldn’t go far. 

In March, my daughter in D.C. brought home a puppy. She had been planning his arrival for months and saving for years. We eagerly awaited every photo she sent of this adorable little ball of fur – and made plans to visit them in April. 

On March 8, My congregation Confirmation Class co-teacher and I took our class and some parents to the BAPS Shri Swaminarayan Mandir in Bartlet. I wondered if anyone would keep their student at home, ask about precautions, or bring gloves or masks. Nope. The trip was healthy and successful and we learned a great deal about Hinduism. It was also the last time class met in person. 

Later that same day, I met my science fiction book club at the Panera in Evanston. This was the last time this group would meet in person and the last time we would meet at that Panera ever – it is now permanently closed!  

The following day, my parents returned from their trip. I had dinner with them in a restaurant nearby. My mother had the salad bar and, only after she returned to the table with her first helping, I realized that a salad bar was a bad idea. I don’t think we’ll see many in the future.  

The author, Neal Schusterman, visited Deerfield High School the next day and I helped with the event. We had several hundred students from the Science Fiction classes gather in the cafeteria to hear him. It was my last time at school; school closed the next day because a parent was exposed to COVID. Was the child of that parent in the program? 

A friend came to dinner on March 13 and I went to Evanston for lunch with a former student on the 14th. No more guests or eating in restaurants since. 

Our son’s university canceled classes and went completely remote. That included those May concerts that would have featured our son. Despite that, he did not want to come home. 

In the midst of all this, I made some photo magnets for my daughter to bring to her work. She had mentioned that lots of people have photos of their families around their desks and she did not. I made them and sent them to her. However, she would not be in that office much longer. 

I had a difficult conversation with my son about coming home. We agreed on a date, I rented a van, cleaned it thoroughly, and drove to Ohio. I stayed one night in a hotel and barely slept because I had sprayed the bed with disinfectant and it smelled horrible! I felt so sad that his college career was ending this way. I stopped at a few places hoping to score some toilet paper. We drove home and classes moved into his bedroom in Deerfield.

A friend caught COVID from her nanny. She became very sick and struggled for months. We heard rumors that a lockdown order was coming. I went to six stores and could not find toilet paper or wipes! 

My daughter’s job was increasingly stressful despite going remote. The puppy was both a wonderful release and an additional burden. She was alone much of the time, even if she met with people outdoors occasionally. 

On March 19, the governor declared a shelter in place order. 

My wife and I started making regular donations to food pantries and other charities. Our family business started making hand sanitizer. I helped my parents learn how to Zoom! 

A friend had her wedding on Zoom. A former student and his wife had a baby. Blessings continued even in this frightening time. 

People who were on their own were clearly struggling. We called them and invited them for a distanced visit on our patio once that was permitted. We had video chats. We started checking in with people every day. We created a pandemic card, like a holiday card, and sent it out. 

More friends got the virus. There were more notations on social media of loved ones who had died or people who were sick. 

We learned to order groceries via Instacart and we would wipe them down when they got to the house. My brother sent us a video made by a doctor teaching us how to do this thoroughly. We disinfected the entire house constantly! 

Our son’s college scheduled a weekend in September to replace the May commencement that they had canceled. I booked hotel rooms. 

At the end of March, I made the note in my journal that I was hoping we would, “get back to normal in dribs and drabs sometime at the end of April or early May.”  2020 was just getting started. 

Vote with Integrity

Recent events have made me think about integrity. Merriam-Webster provides three definitions:

 

1. firm adherence to a code of especially moral or artistic values: incorruptibility.

2. an unimpaired condition: soundness.

3. the quality or state of being complete and undivided: completeness

 

Do I do this? Am I a person of integrity?

 

Can I articulate the code that guides my behavior? Is it an external code, like the Ten Commandments, the Constitution, or some other written set of rules? Have I created my own set of values by which I evaluate my choices?  One can’t be incorruptible if there is nothing to corrupt! What are my guiding values and where do they come from?

 

Is my condition sound? Is my behavior “free from flaw, defect, or decay?” Is it “solid,” “firm,”  “secure,” and “stable?” Do I work to make sure my decisions are “free from error, fallacy, or misapprehension?” Are they “based on thorough knowledge and experience” and “legally” and “logically valid?” Do I show sound and “good judgment or sense?”

 

Am I complete? Is my integrity complete? Do I have all the information and “necessary parts, elements, or steps?” I am being “thorough,” and “proficient?”

Who are people of integrity? How do I know?

 

Some people say one thing and then do another. We call them hypocrites. Others say one thing and then renounce their values when they are no longer convenient or easy. We call them opportunists. Others discard their values when they stand in the way of material or political goals. You probably know what they might be called.  

 

Yet, it can be appropriate to alter one’s values. Can that be done without compromising one’s integrity? We learn. We grow. We change with condition and time. The rules that guided us at four, fourteen, or forty are different. We should not be so rigid or simple to think that the same set of rules will always guide our choices.

 

Or should we? The Ten Commandments don’t change. Perhaps some of our values are unchanging and others need to adapt to current circumstances. How do we know the difference?

 

Does integrity have some basic foundational precepts? Are there some straightforward and direct values that we may bind to our hands, heads, and hearts?

Try these on for a start:  

• Tell the whole truth; be honest.

• Keep your promises and fulfill your obligations.

• Do no harm to others in tangible or intangible ways.

• Actively help those in need.

• Nurture children; support elders.

• Work with other people collaboratively and with their consent.

There are some tools that are necessary to “adhere” to a “code” and remain “sound.”

• I must be able to think critically and reason logically and dispassionately.

• I must be able to tell truth from falsehood –and fact from opinion.

• I must be aware of my desires and how they might affect my thinking and feeling.

• I must listen to others and be able to accept and understand their points of view. 

• I must be able to evaluate others’ points of view dispassionately and with as little bias as possible. I must be aware of that bias and its effects.

• My emotions and my reason must be in concert. While I may have a “gut” feeling, I must pair such feelings with consideration.

• I must acknowledge my own fallibility and own my mistakes when I inevitably make them – and then work to correct them!

Integrity is an active process and more than a state of being. It is a worthy goal. As we go to the ballot box, let us be voters and citizens of integrity.