Apologies Alia, I meant to write more, then got side tracked. I found your post fascinating. I was pondering on this myself the other day, thinking that as to battles, there are so many, and the hardest are against the most nebulous opponent. Like, fighting evil behaviour, or legislation or the like are easier than say, fighting the casual stupidity of lining up in hierarchies and doing nothing but following the leader, or expectations, or fear.
Anyway, I really liked your prose style horror start to the piece too. Quite disconcerting 😳
Thank you, Jonathan. Your comment has me thinking about evil and legislation in connection to power and wealth. I see wealth (whether through personal wealth or industry lobby groups) and the power it yields over governments and legislation as very hard to battle. Not impossible, but I can't be cleaning the coffee machine if I want to bring that down 😂
A powerful scene and troubling questions that issue from it. To the specific instance: I've always promised myself that if I can possibly intervene, I will not stand by and watch another human being be bullied or threatened. That was an easy promise to make as a fit 25-year-old martial artist; as an overweight, sedentary 60-year-old, it's a lot more daunting. Particularly as I've been around long enough to know that the overconfidence of adult males in volatile situations gets us killed or makes killers of us.
As to wider, bigger battles, I've become aware that they are legion. Any human being can exhaust their energy reserves fighting injustice, while injustice barely needs to break a sweat. I still believe that there are times when we must fight, even if the fight is almost hopeless; but there are many more times when dialogue, compromise and empathy, even for people and causes we detest, may achieve more than outright opposition. Outcomes can be evil, but I suspect that people rarely are. Or at least, rarely set out to be.
Rather than evangelise for any cause, I'd sooner present alternatives and let people make up their own minds. That would make me a lousy politician and a useless activist, but I hope it has made me a good schoolbook writer, and that, if anything, has been my contribution to the world.
The education system sure is lucky to have thinkers like yourself writing the text books.
I agree with what you say about intervening when it involves physicality. I've seen some terrible outcomes, one being my own brother, and you have to ask was the outcome worth it?
And it sure can be exhausting fighting injustice. It can be a long, long haul.
He's ok, you wouldn't know it to meet him, but he has brain damage that will worsen as he ages. He was in his first year at uni, over 20 years ago now, and had been drinking at the (then notorious) Coogee Bay Hotel. He was outside, about to leave and had just grabbed a kebab from the kebab stand, as you do in NSW, and saw a guy strangling a woman and called out to the guy to stop. The guy paused and my brother turned and kept walking. That's the last thing he remembers. He was king hit as he was eating his kebab (although they didn't call it a king hit back then, they didn't call it anything until the cricketer David Hookes was killed that way two months later). He fell and his skull smacked into the edge of the gutter. Everyone thought he was dead and the guy ran, and the girl followed him. They never caught him. He was bed ridden for months, suffers from migraines and, having always been an extremely talented cricketer himself, found he just didn't have the same speed and reflex he once had and gave it up. Though he's still young, he's been very forgetful of late, which is starting to get a bit concerning.
Firstly you’re altogether too kind 😊. I just tried to write better books than the ones I learned from, and sneak in as much of what I cared about as I could.
As for the rest of it, I think we need to live in ways that are consistent with our values, but also be gentle with ourselves as far as we can. Doing many small good things quietly over a lifetime may do more to make the world a better place than grand gestures.
Thank you, Kate. I'm glad you enjoyed my very own mini thriller 😄 You're right, there are many small things we can do, and need to do, to live in accordance with our values. I, more recently, get frustrated with myself for not feeling like I'm doing enough, particularly in instances where the small things don't seem to be effective. I'd love to be that person who chains themselves to a tree, but the reality is I can't.
This is very powerful piece, Alia, with deeply insightful practical and philosophical placards in the daily protest of being human in the world. For what it's worth, every eyeball on that train should have been locked on you and the situation with Mr. Death, ready to jump in, and shame on them for not, and for not letting you know that they had your back and you were not alone. People need to speak up and speak out when others, in particular children or vulnerable people, are at risk. As an older person now, seeing that situation, I would have casually asked him, "Hey, would you like my seat?" or some such distraction or intervention to de-escalate. When we send our children into the world, or elderly/disabled folks are out and about, we need to trust that others will look out for them and each other. Damn!
As for the chronic tug-of-war between coffee machine cleaning tablets and world hunger, I don't have the answers but feel the same turmoil. My approach includes a realization of how much modern media has made it possible for us to absorb all the suffering on a daily basis: something which we are evolutionarily unequipped to assimilate, much less manage or solve. With this in mind, I like the advice of others who exhort us to do whatever small things we can, in whatever way we can, as often as we can, and that if everyone does that, it will be enough. We can only do what is humanly possible.
Starting with making sure we take care of our own mental and physical health so we are able to do the most important job on earth, imho: raising children well. As a parent, you are already doing a million times more than you realize to help and heal the planet and its inhabitants. Above that, every thought of empathy, every kind gesture, every creative act contributes to the solution. You are already doing so much more than you realize. Keep up the good work.
Thanks Kate, I'm glad you would look up. I can't imagine not looking myself, but I can understand why others may have felt too scared to intervene with someone who was clearly living in a different world to the rest of us.
And thank you for your kind and wise comments. I do need to remind myself that the small things matter, but it doesn't quell my pent up frustration of not being in a position to do more. I have the utmost respect for those who do.
This essay sparked a memory for me that ten years ago a fifteen year old girl was murdered in cold blood just two blocks from where I’m lying in comfort in my recliner, snuggled in blankets, with a heating pad on my back and my C-shaped travel pillow, with the added comfort of my colossal, eighteen-pound tabby Rodney purring sweetly for his daddy. Forty-three years ago almost to the day my brother went out fishing and we never saw him alive again. Two years before I was born my uncle Jose was robbed of a thousand dollars and murdered just outside of Reno, Nevada by persons unknown, case never solved. I guess all this bad stuff is making me send out negative vibes, because Rodney just jumped down and headed for his dry food.
One more thing: Love Story is also the title of a short novel by Eric Seagal (spelling?) and a movie made when I was in grade school. This reminds me that, in the USA at least, book titles can’t be copyrighted. So if anyone out there wants to write something called War and Peace or Moby Dick be my guest.
I'm so sorry this dredged up those memories for you, Rafael. They are heavy and sad weights to bear. But yes, I understand that feeling of not being able to do more to change such twists of fate.
The second part of your comment has me gasping because I realised I subconsciously called George's short 'story' Love Story, when it is in fact Love Letter. And I didn't catch it in my tired proofread until you mentioned it and I can't believe I let that mistake slip through. So, yes, it is indeed Love Letter and I've now corrected it online. Perhaps don't write War and Peace 😂
Alia, all is well here in Upstate New York. A few minutes after Rodney abandoned me for his kibble my little black cat Daisy hopped up to keep Daddy company. The teenager who was murdered I never knew, and her case will probably never be solved. My wife and I are going today for Covid and flu shots and afterwards we are going on a date shopping and for dinner at our favorite wood-fired pizza place. Outings are rare these days because my wife needs a wheelchair to get around and everything is so expensive on top of that. We’re celebrating because we’ve just gotten $9K in debt paid off and after forty three years together (forty married), we’re still acting like a couple of young honeymooners. B is the best thing that ever happened to anyone I know, and I realize what a lucky man I am.
I’m glad that I inadvertently helped you correct the title of the book you were referencing. If I recall correctly, you’re the lady that lived in Toronto a while back. It’s surprising how many people live practically on top of places like Chimney Bluffs and have never seen them. B and I owe our knowledge of them to a little book called Secret Places in Western and Central New York. (I probably butchered the title too!). So it’s not like we’re a couple of hardy trailblazers. Tardy trailblazers is more like it.
Thanks again for sharing the account of your Gothic transit ride. I guess a lot of people never see It coming until it’s too late. My wife and I watch a lot of murder mysteries and when some fictional character is about to get It we always say “Look out! Never mind.” Have a great day, week, month, year, lifetime!
CORRECTION--oh goodness, I just realised my brain had sleepishly morphed the name of George Saunder's short story Love Letter intro Love Story. My apologies. It is Love Letter, and it's wonderful. Please, if you do get a chance, take a moment to read or listen to it. There are times when a story resonates within its time, and while I suspect this story will resonate many times in the future, one of those times, ahead of the US election, is now. Enjoy.
Thank you, Jonathan.
Apologies Alia, I meant to write more, then got side tracked. I found your post fascinating. I was pondering on this myself the other day, thinking that as to battles, there are so many, and the hardest are against the most nebulous opponent. Like, fighting evil behaviour, or legislation or the like are easier than say, fighting the casual stupidity of lining up in hierarchies and doing nothing but following the leader, or expectations, or fear.
Anyway, I really liked your prose style horror start to the piece too. Quite disconcerting 😳
Thank you, Jonathan. Your comment has me thinking about evil and legislation in connection to power and wealth. I see wealth (whether through personal wealth or industry lobby groups) and the power it yields over governments and legislation as very hard to battle. Not impossible, but I can't be cleaning the coffee machine if I want to bring that down 😂
A powerful scene and troubling questions that issue from it. To the specific instance: I've always promised myself that if I can possibly intervene, I will not stand by and watch another human being be bullied or threatened. That was an easy promise to make as a fit 25-year-old martial artist; as an overweight, sedentary 60-year-old, it's a lot more daunting. Particularly as I've been around long enough to know that the overconfidence of adult males in volatile situations gets us killed or makes killers of us.
As to wider, bigger battles, I've become aware that they are legion. Any human being can exhaust their energy reserves fighting injustice, while injustice barely needs to break a sweat. I still believe that there are times when we must fight, even if the fight is almost hopeless; but there are many more times when dialogue, compromise and empathy, even for people and causes we detest, may achieve more than outright opposition. Outcomes can be evil, but I suspect that people rarely are. Or at least, rarely set out to be.
Rather than evangelise for any cause, I'd sooner present alternatives and let people make up their own minds. That would make me a lousy politician and a useless activist, but I hope it has made me a good schoolbook writer, and that, if anything, has been my contribution to the world.
The education system sure is lucky to have thinkers like yourself writing the text books.
I agree with what you say about intervening when it involves physicality. I've seen some terrible outcomes, one being my own brother, and you have to ask was the outcome worth it?
And it sure can be exhausting fighting injustice. It can be a long, long haul.
If you don’t mind my asking (and I’ll understand if you prefer not to discuss it) what happened to your brother?
He's ok, you wouldn't know it to meet him, but he has brain damage that will worsen as he ages. He was in his first year at uni, over 20 years ago now, and had been drinking at the (then notorious) Coogee Bay Hotel. He was outside, about to leave and had just grabbed a kebab from the kebab stand, as you do in NSW, and saw a guy strangling a woman and called out to the guy to stop. The guy paused and my brother turned and kept walking. That's the last thing he remembers. He was king hit as he was eating his kebab (although they didn't call it a king hit back then, they didn't call it anything until the cricketer David Hookes was killed that way two months later). He fell and his skull smacked into the edge of the gutter. Everyone thought he was dead and the guy ran, and the girl followed him. They never caught him. He was bed ridden for months, suffers from migraines and, having always been an extremely talented cricketer himself, found he just didn't have the same speed and reflex he once had and gave it up. Though he's still young, he's been very forgetful of late, which is starting to get a bit concerning.
That’s awful. It sounds very like a situation I intervened verbally in, again about 20 years ago, but without the violent outcome.
Firstly you’re altogether too kind 😊. I just tried to write better books than the ones I learned from, and sneak in as much of what I cared about as I could.
As for the rest of it, I think we need to live in ways that are consistent with our values, but also be gentle with ourselves as far as we can. Doing many small good things quietly over a lifetime may do more to make the world a better place than grand gestures.
https://youtu.be/BRDq7aneXnk
Wow, that's powerful. Thanks for sharing Fred. We do tend to be like sheep.
Alia, lots to think about after reading your essay, thank you. You had me gripped at the start with you on the train.
I am thinking, there are so many small things that we can do, to make this world a little better for everyone.
Thank you, Kate. I'm glad you enjoyed my very own mini thriller 😄 You're right, there are many small things we can do, and need to do, to live in accordance with our values. I, more recently, get frustrated with myself for not feeling like I'm doing enough, particularly in instances where the small things don't seem to be effective. I'd love to be that person who chains themselves to a tree, but the reality is I can't.
You know your story made me think about another opening to a story, a narrator called death and a train ride -- the book thief!
And I too, think its the small things that really matter.
This is very powerful piece, Alia, with deeply insightful practical and philosophical placards in the daily protest of being human in the world. For what it's worth, every eyeball on that train should have been locked on you and the situation with Mr. Death, ready to jump in, and shame on them for not, and for not letting you know that they had your back and you were not alone. People need to speak up and speak out when others, in particular children or vulnerable people, are at risk. As an older person now, seeing that situation, I would have casually asked him, "Hey, would you like my seat?" or some such distraction or intervention to de-escalate. When we send our children into the world, or elderly/disabled folks are out and about, we need to trust that others will look out for them and each other. Damn!
As for the chronic tug-of-war between coffee machine cleaning tablets and world hunger, I don't have the answers but feel the same turmoil. My approach includes a realization of how much modern media has made it possible for us to absorb all the suffering on a daily basis: something which we are evolutionarily unequipped to assimilate, much less manage or solve. With this in mind, I like the advice of others who exhort us to do whatever small things we can, in whatever way we can, as often as we can, and that if everyone does that, it will be enough. We can only do what is humanly possible.
Starting with making sure we take care of our own mental and physical health so we are able to do the most important job on earth, imho: raising children well. As a parent, you are already doing a million times more than you realize to help and heal the planet and its inhabitants. Above that, every thought of empathy, every kind gesture, every creative act contributes to the solution. You are already doing so much more than you realize. Keep up the good work.
Thanks Kate, I'm glad you would look up. I can't imagine not looking myself, but I can understand why others may have felt too scared to intervene with someone who was clearly living in a different world to the rest of us.
And thank you for your kind and wise comments. I do need to remind myself that the small things matter, but it doesn't quell my pent up frustration of not being in a position to do more. I have the utmost respect for those who do.
This essay sparked a memory for me that ten years ago a fifteen year old girl was murdered in cold blood just two blocks from where I’m lying in comfort in my recliner, snuggled in blankets, with a heating pad on my back and my C-shaped travel pillow, with the added comfort of my colossal, eighteen-pound tabby Rodney purring sweetly for his daddy. Forty-three years ago almost to the day my brother went out fishing and we never saw him alive again. Two years before I was born my uncle Jose was robbed of a thousand dollars and murdered just outside of Reno, Nevada by persons unknown, case never solved. I guess all this bad stuff is making me send out negative vibes, because Rodney just jumped down and headed for his dry food.
One more thing: Love Story is also the title of a short novel by Eric Seagal (spelling?) and a movie made when I was in grade school. This reminds me that, in the USA at least, book titles can’t be copyrighted. So if anyone out there wants to write something called War and Peace or Moby Dick be my guest.
I'm so sorry this dredged up those memories for you, Rafael. They are heavy and sad weights to bear. But yes, I understand that feeling of not being able to do more to change such twists of fate.
The second part of your comment has me gasping because I realised I subconsciously called George's short 'story' Love Story, when it is in fact Love Letter. And I didn't catch it in my tired proofread until you mentioned it and I can't believe I let that mistake slip through. So, yes, it is indeed Love Letter and I've now corrected it online. Perhaps don't write War and Peace 😂
Alia, all is well here in Upstate New York. A few minutes after Rodney abandoned me for his kibble my little black cat Daisy hopped up to keep Daddy company. The teenager who was murdered I never knew, and her case will probably never be solved. My wife and I are going today for Covid and flu shots and afterwards we are going on a date shopping and for dinner at our favorite wood-fired pizza place. Outings are rare these days because my wife needs a wheelchair to get around and everything is so expensive on top of that. We’re celebrating because we’ve just gotten $9K in debt paid off and after forty three years together (forty married), we’re still acting like a couple of young honeymooners. B is the best thing that ever happened to anyone I know, and I realize what a lucky man I am.
I’m glad that I inadvertently helped you correct the title of the book you were referencing. If I recall correctly, you’re the lady that lived in Toronto a while back. It’s surprising how many people live practically on top of places like Chimney Bluffs and have never seen them. B and I owe our knowledge of them to a little book called Secret Places in Western and Central New York. (I probably butchered the title too!). So it’s not like we’re a couple of hardy trailblazers. Tardy trailblazers is more like it.
Thanks again for sharing the account of your Gothic transit ride. I guess a lot of people never see It coming until it’s too late. My wife and I watch a lot of murder mysteries and when some fictional character is about to get It we always say “Look out! Never mind.” Have a great day, week, month, year, lifetime!
You're right, many don't see it coming.
Enjoy your date night, Rafael.
Excellent thoughts
CORRECTION--oh goodness, I just realised my brain had sleepishly morphed the name of George Saunder's short story Love Letter intro Love Story. My apologies. It is Love Letter, and it's wonderful. Please, if you do get a chance, take a moment to read or listen to it. There are times when a story resonates within its time, and while I suspect this story will resonate many times in the future, one of those times, ahead of the US election, is now. Enjoy.