My teachers by Ruth Neuwald Falcon

What is being asked of us is to hunker down for a long fight. We’re going to have to go on witnessing much suffering and destruction. Even if we turn away and don’t want to look at it all (it would be intolerable to look at it all), we know, somewhere in our minds and hearts that it’s going on. I went through my email the other night while Lawrence O’Donnell talked with a reporter about the children dying in Sudan. They described what witnessing such starvation is like. “I saw it once,” Lawrence said. “I don’t know if it could tolerate seeing it again.” 

I understand what he means about not knowing what one can tolerate. Unlike O’Donnell, I have not witnessed certain things personally but because of my family’s Holocaust history, I feel like I’m reliving their experience of the early days of authoritarianism. The Executive Order that went out last night is so clearly setting the stage for the “I was just following orders” scenario.

This morning, Thom Hartmann said, “They are trying to destroy our country.” Trying?

Last night, Heather Cox Richardson talked about how she needs to know and understand what’s going on every day. That’s why she writes her daily Letters from an American and it’s why I read them. She, Joyce Vance, Robert Hubbell, and Rachel Maddow are my core daily sources of information.

If I have the mental wherewithal, I also check out The Contrarian, Jim Acosta, Robert Reich, Lawrence O’Donnell, and Don Lemon. (It’s refreshing to see both Acosta and Lemon unfettered by their CNN roles; while Maddow and O’Donnell are still on MSNBC, they don’t seem to be muzzled.) The list could go on but that’s enough for one day.

Like Heather Cox Richardson, it’s harder for me when I don’t know what’s going on. That feels too terrifying and unmooring. Increasingly, however, I can’t handle knowing. I don’t know what to do.

One can get used to anything. I don’t always remember this, certainly not in the immediate hours or days or weeks after a diagnosis or a disaster. In those times, I am overcome, as I am now, and don’t know how I will face what has happened and what is to come. This morning, I remembered my dogs, both of whom have been gone for more than two decades.

For the last years of their doggie lives, Nikolai and Shanti declined in spurts. They would first seem shocked by the new limitation on their abilities or the more severe discomfort in their bodies. Then, usually pretty quickly, they seemed to mentally shake themselves and (to anthropomorphize a bit) go, Okay. I can deal with this. Let’s eat and go for a walk!

I knew they were my teachers back then. I am doing my best to heed their wisdom today.