Sure, it could be bad news, but maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s catastrophic.
If it is catastrophic, you’re going to wish you’d paused for a moment before making that call. After all, that’s your last chance to appreciate your life as it is— chances are that’s something you’ve been taking for granted — and once you pick up the phone, you might find it’s essentially all gone by the time you put it back down. Everything you’ve been thinking about or worrying over, plans you might be making… all that could be rendered meaningless in a moment — all swept away just to make room for the sudden influx of sadness and fear. Trust me, I know. And once the really crazy part ends and your mind’s no longer just reacting and you’re actually able to generate a thought or two of your own, you’re going to think about how beautiful and simple your life was before you made that call and what you’d give to have it back. Even if only for a minute just to say goodbye.
Catastrophe always arrives as a mixture of the familiar with the strange: a casual greeting met by silence, an odd tone in a familiar voice... a face you’ve known all your life with an expression you’ve never seen.
For me it was a text from someone I knew well but who never texted me, and from whom “Call ASAP” was highly unlikely to be good news or even bad news. My guess was Very Bad, possibly Terrible, so I paused long enough to steel myself and made the call. The news was in fact Terrible, but likely to turn Catastrophic. It was one of those bolt-out-of-the-blue medical things — I believe the term they use is “event” — where there’s all sorts of bad outcomes, the whole spectrum really, and only one good one: total recovery. And it had happened to someone who was one of those best friends that was as close if not closer than family. They don’t even have a word for what this guy meant to me. But if he died, and from the sounds of it that’s just what he was going to do, then the rest of my life would be darker — the next several years substantially so. And it was while contemplating this that I realized how fantastically beautiful and sweet my life had been just ten minutes before… how much I’d taken it for granted… and that I should’ve waited. I should’ve given myself at least a minute to appreciate what I had while I still had it. Because on the verge of tears with your guts all tied up in knots, it’s just not the same.
So if you’re feeling bored or lonely... perhaps restless or vaguely disappointed, Congratulations! If you can remember what it was like to feel anguish, what you’re feeling now should seem like ecstasy. Maybe things aren’t great, and God knows we’ve all got problems, but if none of them are catastrophic, that alone is reason to give thanks. There’s no reason to wait for the text either. If you’re not suffering right now, be thankful for that — take stock of your life and be grateful. Remember what this feels like, being who you are, living in the kind of country that you do. And if you haven’t already, be sure to vote. And don’t just rush through it: take your time, be deliberate. Enjoy what you’re doing. And afterwards, why not stop for a minute just to try to appreciate what you just did, because I doubt there’s really that many of us who truly understand and appreciate just how great it is to live and vote in a democracy the way we do right now.
But I’m afraid we’re about to.
I’m going out to hang the signs just above and won’t be able to answer comments until later. The signs shown below are all from the same overpass — University Ave, in Berkeley, where it turns out I’ve hung literally hundreds of signs since 2003, making it a kind of keeper of historical record for the 21st Century.
Oh yeah, I forgot the best part, There’s A Goddam Happy Ending:
Full Recovery.
Happy Ending Part II: He’s Canadian. That means everyone who knew him got to cry Tears of Joy unadulterated by Tears of Also Going Bankrupt!