ISO Stairways

Walking in the suburbs is one thing. Taking the stairs is something else entirely — mostly because of how difficult they are to find.

They may lurk around several nondescript corners in a nondescript office building. They may be hidden behind an unlabeled door. They may be dark when you enter them, though hopefully lights will come on as you ascend. 

I once worked on the third floor of a 100-plus-year-old university building. It had a staircase to die for, broad, shallow, perfectly calibrated to the human footstep, with a curved wooden banister. I felt noble just ascending those stairs. They were the main show. There may have been an elevator somewhere, but it took a back seat. 

I know it's not practical, but what if every two- or three- or four-story building was retrofitted with such a grand staircase? What if elevators were harder to find. Wouldn't we all be better off? 

Not So Super Tuesday

Yesterday began with a meditation session — a few minutes of peace that were quickly blotted out by the panic in the air. Had I bought enough staples at the grocery store? Should I pick up extra dog food? What about dried beans and noodles? And hand sanitizer? I hear there are runs on that in the stores.

At meetings and at the water cooler, talk of Covid 19 alternated with talk of Super Tuesday, with a similar degree of cheer, which was none at all. Disasters seem to be looming on both fronts.

One searches for a center of gravity, for normalcy, for what passes as calm. Is it better to be informed or stay ignorant?

At this point, I vote for the latter.

The Hello Project

It's called the Hello Project, I think, although I can't seem to learn much about it online. I heard about it last night at book group. People are paired with their political opposites and have phone conversations, a Rust Belt conservative with an East Coast liberal. It's a way to share views and bridge the great divide.

What I can't stop thinking about it, though, is how it's come to this. Why do we require such artificial means to such natural ends: honest sharing of views, speaking without censure? Why do so few of us know people from the Other Side?

Is it because we live in boxes and zip codes and echo chambers? Because we're angry and afraid? Some of these, to be sure, but probably much more: fissures widening so slowly and inexorably that we haven't realized they were there until they've become almost too big to bridge.

I'm glad there's a Hello Project. But I'm sorry we need it. It's as if we cut down all the trees in a forest and then planted saplings in their wake. Yes, I'd be glad for the saplings, but I would mourn the old trees, so strong and true.

Life Without Chocolate

Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, a day I'm embarrassed to say I often dread because for me it's usually the first of 40 days without chocolate. There have even been years when it's been the first of 40 days without sweets — a practice so difficult and fraught with deliberation (is granola a sweet? how about Irish soda bread?) as to render most spiritual gains irrelevant.

The trick, of course, is to deprive one's self for a higher purpose —and not so radically that the deprivation becomes an end in itself.

I think this is possible. I really do. But there are always moments — usually at the end of a long day when a handful of peanut M&Ms would taste mighty nice — when it begins to seem more stultifying than edifying.

Still, like anything else, it gets easier with practice. Usually by Easter I feel like I could live the rest of my life without chocolate.

Of course, I never do.

Photo: Wikipedia

Many Are Called...

I've been interested in the reaction to Sunday night's Oscar snafu. Many have praised La La Land producer Jordan Horowitz for stepping up to the mic and saying there was a mistake, that "Moonlight, you guys won." Horowitz has been called a true gentleman and a truth teller.

Horowitz did what we all wish we would do in similar circumstances: he handled a disappointing and embarrassing moment with dignity, empathy and humor. He even joked about it the next day, saying he got to win an Oscar for Best Picture, thank his wife and kids and then present the same Oscar for Best Picture. "Not many people can say that."

In fact, no one else can say that. But what watching him makes me wish is that I could handle all the petty ups and downs of my life in such a generous, big-hearted way.

A worthy goal. Unattainable, but worthy.