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Time was short, and we were never in this much of a hurry. There didn't seem to be any explanation for the sudden commotion, but as my father got me into the car, it was clear that something urgent had come up. My parents had been speaking in hushed tones, and their anxiety had been escalating. I had been watching from the yard, and I saw my father's car kicking up a plume of dust as it sped down the tall hill that led to our driveway. It was strange to see him coming home in the middle of the day from farm work that usually lasted until twilight. His weather-worn face was set with a tension unfamiliar to me, and it seemed like he was bracing himself for some unknown foe.
I watched the dust behind us swirling in the wind as we drove away. It was then that my mother turned to me to announce that there was an emergency. She explained that her father had been battling with life for a long time, and he had finally succumbed to it. I didn't understand why it was an emergency if he knew what was happening. My mother used words like "shame," "bound to happen," "saw it coming," and "wouldn't listen," but they made little sense to me.
It dawned on me that some emergencies are accidents. The result of some unforeseen and unexpected circumstance that results in a surprise for which there is no forethought solution. Some emergencies are, as the word infers, emergent. This adolescent memory and cognizant perplexity still carry some truth throughout the decades. The world is in a state of emergency again. Whether corruption, climate change, pandemic, or war, every day, a plume of dust appears to surround us and, if allowed, will choke us to the point of death. These can be frightening times, yet they are not the emergency of surprise. This plume of dust has been watched speeding down the tall hill that leads to the driveway. It has been identified for decades, and the tools to keep it from turning up the drive available are laid unused in the toolbox. Economists, scientists, educators, advocates, and even politicians have pointed to the questionable use of privilege and the lack of accountable oversight, allowing some to gain advantage from dubious and short-sighted practices. The emergence of the current circumstance may surprise some, but it is certainly not an unforeseen state. This dust has been floating over the field for years.
Now that the wind has taken the dust, we’ve all turned to each other in recognition of this alternate reality. The tendency is always to examine the dust and quantify the “shame,” “bound to happen,” “saw it coming,” and “wouldn’t listen” categories that, though they make good media entertainment, don’t help move beyond the extended first finger. Call it moral fiber, stiff upper lip, or face to the wind; this is the time to remember who we are. “Them/They” needs to disappear, and “I/we” must reappear. No matter what views are held this is a historic time in the history of history. It is a tremendous opportunity to apply the diligence needed to emerge into a better, more robust, more unified world. As the world watches, we all have to take the opportunity to sit up straight, eat our vegetables, and do what needs to be done.
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