If you’ve been blessed with the privilege of living on this planet, chances are you’ve lived in a nation or a state or province or city at some time and been aware of some kind of annual State of the – (appropriate entity) Address whereby leadership publicly tries to sum up the year just passed in what all too often is a compendium of exaggerated “achievements” and failure to mention or outright deny what might’ve not gone according to plan. It’s all okay so long as everyone knows the game being played (most of us do) and accepts it as kind of an annual ritual that has its place in the way of things. What follows is sort of that, but not exactly.
This particular annual report/summation/reflection on the year just passed sort of picks up on what governments do for propaganda purposes or whatever – for one thing it takes into account events circumscribed by the planet’s just completed trip around the sun (the “annual” part) – but whereas those guys tend to be a bit vague about their timing with these matters, this one zeroes right in on the origin story, as in what has happened since the previous date of the addressor’s birth. Is this not a great idea? And how come the “birthday speech” has not become part and parcel of the birthday celebration? As in blow out the candles and say a few words! I for one have never heard such a request made, though admittedly birthday parties can occur at any time in life but the vast majority come during childhood, and who would dare put a kid on the spot like that? And if the child did speak, what might they say? Pretty risky, for sure. As Canadian-American radio and TV personality Art Linkletter once told us “kids say the darnedest things” and we shall never know what things he left out of his show so he wouldn’t get cancelled by the censors.
But we are all adults here, and whatever you might think of the whole birthday speech concept, this writer will fearlessly admit that he is mostly driven by the endless pursuit of fodder for the next blog posting. That said, it is also a curious if not opportune co-incidence that it has been a year, more or less, since ravinginbeantown started churning out regular bits of pictorial information and wordy ruminations and however else one might describe what appears on this website. So imagine yourself at his birthday party, decked out in your best party clothes, sated on party food and worn out from the wild celebrations, the dancing and the ritual with the cake (heart-shaped, of course) and the featured magician or pony ride or paintball fight, and maybe you were just about to escape all this exhausting social joyousness with a polite but heartfelt “Happy birthday! See you later!” when the birthday boy spots you and addresses you and the room of people Columbo-style with “Wait there’s just one more thing” to which everyone quiets down, wondering what the hell is left to do, here? And he begins this speech, which includes a PowerPoint slideshow. Everybody cringes.
“Three score and fourteen years ago, my mother brought forth into this world a bouncing baby boy, hopefully conceived in joy in a bedroom somewhere in the Chicago area, and dedicated to the proposition that survival is all that matters, as is the case with infants of all animal species in the beginning, for good reason. It happened to be on Valentine’s Day, already long celebrated as a day of love and romance, hearts and flowers, thus giving him and all who share that calendar birthright the privilege of associating any annual summary statement they might make on that day with hearts or flowers or both but today just heart will suffice.”
“According to the psychologist Erik Erikson, that infant was thrust into what he calls the first of eight life stages, when it’s all about Trust and Mistrust. Wrapped up in that challenge as he probably was, and being illiterate besides, the boy wouldn’t have noticed the news of that day, which was kindly provided for him many years later when someone presented him with a photocopy of the corresponding New York Herald Tribune front page. A Chicago Trib might’ve been better, but the gift catalogue or whatever only offered a newspaper from the Big Apple, and news is news, as they say.”
“Just look at that dense page of copy! Mostly unreadable from a distance but rest assured a closeup look reveals several prominent themes of the 20th century’s midpoint, like those several articles about the heating up of what was becoming the Cold War, failed peace negotiations with the new Communist government in China as well as some US diplomatic flap in Hungary where the Iron Curtain was coming down with a thunk. We’ve also got several major transit strikes in NYC and Philly, and an editorial at the top of the page about Republican Responsibility, which describes the need to make up for recent elections losses by ‘forging in Congress a constructive and positive record’ and ‘developing progressive leadership at all levels’ so as to win back voters. Scattered about are also several articles about creating a more effective health care system, and an unbelievable report on a public panic resulting from a radio broadcast of War of the Worlds, similar to that famous one eleven years previous in New Jersey by Orson Welles, only this time it was in Ecuador. No damage was done by alien invaders, but six people died and a mob that resembled homo sapiens more than a pack of Men from Mars destroyed the radio station. Those were troubled times.”
“Maybe the most telling of news bits on this front page is the annual report from the Veterans Administration on their most recent numbers: an increase by 500K in 1948, all of them new WWII vets, whose entire total from that latest conflict now reached almost 15 million, making the grand total of those under the VA’s care about 19 million former soldiers. Especially notable is that the VA was still sending pension money to dependents of deceased veterans of the Mexican War of 1848, as well as to over 100K vets of the Spanish American War and – wait for it – 49 living Civil War vets. Thus we get a specific measure of how that infant boy, born this day, was one of the latest additions to the tag-team of generations that comprises the history of our species on this planet, in his case going well back into the 19th century.”
“Now, lo these many years later, that infant has become a man who can reflect upon how his life links up with a generation from the Civil War and the possibility that one or a few of them might have been present at Gettysburg, either for the fight or for the US President’s epic four minute speech, or however long it took to read 271 words. He ponders how that was such a helluva long time ago and now here he is, currently engaged in the joys and struggles of old age, a life stage that tests whether one can carry on in a way that is active and joyous and meaningful, or something a whole lot less than that, especially in those moments when he succumbs to the acute awareness of how damn much he is slowing down, not to mention the occasional or more than occasional physical as well as mental pain. Thank God such moments are still pretty rare at this point. What is far more common is a daily sense of wonder over having lived this long and was he really around before the interstate highway system? Are those memories of Route 66 real, or imagined? Did he really watch the Dodgers play baseball in the LA Coliseum after they’d just arrived from Brooklyn, when he didn’t even know that Brooklyn was part of NYC? Did his home phone really have a party line, and how many people nowadays even know what that was? The family car was always struggling with something his father called ‘vapor lock’ and what the hell was that?”
“Erik E. describes this as the eighth and final stage of life, when it’s all about what he calls Integrity vs Despair, which in a nutshell means working out whether one can say they’ve led a good life and made peace with themselves and the world, or whether reflection turns into regret and bitterness and maybe a dose of guilt and overall bad feeling. He’s also realistic to note that wisdom usually means one is aware of both of these at various times, because life is complicated and ain’t that just so? On the best days one hopes life is far from over, when the energy runs high and it becomes undeniable there are still lots of good things to do and experience and with any luck it’ll go on forever! Yeah, sure.”
“Looking at the past year, I can say this has been mostly the case, and ravinginbeantown has been a chronicle of much that was great and memorable. There were the big deal moments like that trip to Finland and Norway, but the vast majority of worthwhile moments were more humble and day-to-day, and isn’t that how it should be? Yes there were glorious exotic birds and grand skies over the Arctic in that faraway place, but ten feet outside our kitchen window we’ve long been treated to gorgeous bluejays and goldfinches and nuthatches (and so much more!) though of course to the true fan of nature are not all birds gorgeous if one looks closely and truly sees? And we know besides those there are many more in grand variety spread across the habitats of Massachusetts and the surrounding region, and that about this time of year migrants from the south start showing in ever increasing numbers until we get the avian floods of May. Having said that, wandering to galaxies far away will always have its place, and the ecotourist will always have their dreams waiting to be realized.”
“Speaking of the glories of our backyard, it also provides the setting for Gumby and his pals and their mind-boggling adventures, along with so many other feasts for the eye throughout the seasons (the witch hazel, the bleeding hearts, the snow drops sprouting as I say these words), and the past year, like all years, was no different; it’s one back yard you can count on. One could say the same for our fair city of Boston, and for another year (our 43rd consecutive or something like that) its offerings easily matched the glories of our backyard. Of course it helps if you’re a fanatical urbanist, which you might not be and of course your reasons for that are good ones. The city also happened to have elections this year, which saw the leadership come closer to matching the profile of the people that live here, as the Irish old-boy network fades slowly into history. It had a good if not always laudable run, but women are finally showing up in big numbers in our city and state governments, and it’s about time.”
“And for another year my blood pressure remained under control and it looks like I won’t be going blind any time soon! Talk about thrilling! May you be equally blessed.”
“Another key piece of the Integrity vs Despair ‘dialectic’ – a word Erikson didn’t use but can you see it sort of works that way? – is the role of relationships. I have always felt the so-called ‘science’ of Happiness, with its measures and studies that are supposed to prove something, seemed a bit ridiculous. Finland scores highest on the national ‘Happiness Index’ or whatever fairly consistently, but researching our trip there dredged up a lot of Finns who disagreed with their ‘victory’ and how the surveys might miss a few key things; some told us there were far too many quiet and reserved and socially isolated alcoholics around, for starters. But where the experts seem to have nailed it is in their grand conclusion that relationships are #1 when it comes to keeping despair at bay. Is that not the utter truth? For yet another year this truth prevailed in my life. And besides friends and family I continue to benefit from a kind of ‘bonus’ in this department, connecting with the dozen or so clients who define my current ‘passionate amateur’ status as a social worker. Those monthly phone calls, as difficult as they can be sometimes, remain the opportunity to learn from people whose stories arise from a far different place than the usual ones I’ve come to know in my life’s more familiar social circles. For that they’re very special.”
“But these life-affirming factors, as powerful as they are in all the best ways, also get balanced off by ongoing trends in the larger world which are anything but positive. One might even describe them as scary, sad, and tragic or even potentially catastrophic, if not already catastrophic. You know what they are. One might look to today’s Boston Globe for a hint of some of this, but 02/14/23’s front page doesn’t tell us much. Journalism and the look of front pages has changed a lot in 74 years, if you didn’t know, and I wouldn’t say for the better. Curiously we find another news piece on the Republican party, this time about how the ascendance of the nutty right-wingers continues apace, and those party bigwigs back in 1949 who hoped to forge a ‘constructive and positive’ record in Congress might be turning over in their graves at what the Grand Old Party, and even democracy in America, has become. The story at the top about the mother who recently murdered her children, in a psychotic fit of postpartum depression, is sad beyond words, but the angry mob in Ecuador murdering six is similar testimony to how the delicate balance of brain chemistry in homo sapiens can so easily go awry with the worst possible outcomes.”
“That this plays out on a major scale, with a world forever caught up in national and tribal conflicts that offers no relief from our history of endless wars and destruction, is something that bears no further comment, at least not at a birthday party. No mention shall be made of potential Armageddon, either, at least not on this Valentine’s Day, at least not from this guy no siree. One could continue the gloom & doom theme with a foray into climate change and the endless exhortations from the scientists that the world’s response is inadequate in the extreme, with global consequences which sooner or later will make current military conflicts seem a petty thing in comparison. Should I mention that this past winter was the very first in memory where Boston had no measurable snow at all? I lifted a shovel maybe one time to skim a thin coating of white stuff off the sidewalk; now that’s spooky. Perhaps I should be thankful that my despair is triggered by these things and not any Eriksonian personal sense of failure. And if you have no moments of despair at all in your life, then good for you! You must excuse me for wondering if we share the same planet.”
“So yes it’s getting late and this particular ‘address’ has run much longer than four minutes (I ain’t no Lincoln, whose birthday was just a couple of days ago, by the way). Let me just say one last time that, above all every birthday is indeed a thing to celebrate, and I hope I’ve made all the appropriate reasons clear, and thanks for letting me share those. I can only close with a comment you might find disturbing but which brings some bit of comfort to me, which is that if the current trajectory of things results in our species, at least the current version that has evolved, checking out at some point, it might just be a good thing for the next four billion years that this third rock from the sun has left (you knew this trip wouldn’t last forever, didn’t you?) and that our supreme and arrogant reign over it will me the mere blip it was meant to be. Regardless of our fate, what really matters to me is that all the other species that exist on the planet, by the planet, and for the planet, do not perish from the earth along with us. That would be just too unfair and maybe the ultimate crime against nature.”
“There is this skinny tree in the Arnold Arboretum that leans out in a distinctive way over the main entrance road, a thoroughfare that is often filled with folks walking and babies in strollers and little kids biking in an environment that is perfect for them. Two thirds of the way up this tree is a small hole, easy to miss, and I was told many years ago by the person who pointed it out that quite often or often enough one can find a screech owl filling that hole, there above the happy crowds below. For lo these many years I’ve stopped to take a look at this hole in the many trips I’ve made through the place, almost always on a bike; I’ve yet to find a bird there. For some reason I think this is finally going to be the year. Will it be a gray or a red morph? Who cares? I only know that today it looks like it’s going to be a good year, and of course that owl may elude me once again, because birding is like that, but I’ve got this feeling and it’s a good one.”
“Thanks for coming and have a safe trip home. It’s a jungle out there, if you didn’t know.”
