Category: Commentary

I’ve been watching The Wizard of Oz over and over again for as long as I can remember. As a child I was terrified by the flying monkeys, and if you follow my blog regularly you will know why. It has to do with an incident that involved a little monkey jumping on my back and not letting go. I find it strange that after my own fear of certain scenes in The Wizard of Oz, that I then introduced the film to my young daughters. I viewed the film with them almost every single year of their childhood at Thanksgiving. By then I knew the outcomes, but still found myself cringing over the thought of having a flying monkey land on my back. 

Eventually my grown daughter laughingly purchased a sign that said, “I’ve got flying monkeys and I’ll use them.” That alleviated my worry that I may have scarred my children for life with a movie that seemed to be a somewhat violent child’s tale. Imagine my surprise when I learned that L. Frank Baum actually wrote it as political satire at the end of the nineteenth century. People who read it back then recognized all of the characters and understood the deeper meanings, much like we do with Saturday Night Live. The book was quite popular and eventually Mr. Baum even wrote a musical on the same theme. It was all commentary about the industrialization of the country and the plight of farmers fighting for a waning way of life. Some even think it was concerned with financial and banking issues, such as whether to use a gold, silver or bimetal standard for our currency. 

There have been many analyses of The Wizard of Oz over time, but Baum was always a bit cagey about revealing his real intent for the tale. I suppose that it was indeed some kind of allegory whose message and characters might be repurposed to comment on almost any era. The only things that seems to be certain is that Dorothy was supposed to represent innocence and goodness. Her companions on the journey to Oz, which is said to actually be the abbreviation for “ounce,” are theoretically, depictions of farming, industry, and politics. The various and sundry witches might be any powerful individuals who have lost touch with humanity. The Wizard is a charlatan who appears to be kindly, but cares little for Dorothy. His only concern is wanting to eliminate the Wicked Witch of the West to increase his own power. The Wizard sends Dorothy on a dangerous journey without regard for what might happen to her. Oz itself is the DisneyWorld of its time, a place of escape from reality where security and happiness are a facade. Of course, the main theme of the piece is that there really is no place like home, and we should find ways to be content with who we are and whatever we have. 

I’m not going to reveal my own version of who might be the characters in a modern day version of The Wizard of Oz, but I think it is rather apparent that the basic story is just screaming for thoughts on who is today’s Dorothy, who the huckster Wizard might actually be and which people in our society are the witches. Of course it is debatable as to who among us are the deluded citizens of Oz. I suppose arguments might be made for all sorts of possibilities. I know I have my own thoughts, but I rather like the idea of leaving it to each individual to decide who they believe is fooling us now. 

As an educator, I don’t like unkind descriptions of people, but I have seen a great deal of ignorance that would make many people perfect candidates for the scarecrow. They tend to have kind hearts and good intentions, but don’t always think things through. As for the tin man, we’ve all known people who don’t seem to realize how insensitive they appear to be. In today’s world it would not take too much effort to find a pride of cowardly lions. As for Dorothy, I still believe in the innocence and goodness of our youth, and I say all that time that the young men and women of today will one day save us in spite of ourselves. They are not the clueless wonders that so many seem to believe that they are. They can deal with witches and flying monkeys and magic with great courage. They are truth seekers who have seen things that many of us have been too busy to imagine or accept. I have great faith in them.

The movie version of The Wizard of Oz gave us a more literal version of the tale, but I always believed that the very ending gave away the truth and the power of its intended meaning. I also thought that the classic song, Over the Rainbow, provided the key to interpreting what the story was really all about. The film was released in 1939, a time when Adolf Hitler was conquering countries like Poland. There was still a great deal of wishful thinking and naïveté in a world that wanted to believe that there would not be another world war, and that Hitler’s intentions were were not as frightening as they seemed. Soon his flying monkeys would descend on Europe, and it would take a new Dorothy and her companions to save us all.

The Twilight Zone was good fun back in my youth, a time spent with my cousins marveling at the strange stories that aired each week. Back then I marveled at the creativity of the writers, but never really discerned the social commentary of each episode. I watched with the eye of a child who only saw monsters and magic. As an adult I view those episodes over and over again with decades of experience dealing with human nature. I realize now how much those tales told about our humanity and the problems that we all too often carelessly create. 

I have often thought back to some of the plots that were of little interest to me as a child, which now occupy my thoughts with a sense of wonder. One particular episode involved a seemingly happy group of neighbors who appeared to be living the good life in a state of bliss. Sadly it took little more than a perceived emergency to tear their relationships irreparably apart. During our most recent battles with Covid 19 I have watched individuals who were once close, become bitterly divided over stay at home rules, remote learning, masks and vaccines. The discussions about such issues have often become vile and personally insulting. As in The Twilight Zone story sometimes the disagreements even become violent. We had a wonderful opportunity to work together to defeat the virus and keep one another safe, but instead we turned it into a gladiatorial contest of wills. Many died because of our unwillingness to accept precautions rather than demand freedoms.

In another storyline that I found to be boring when I first saw it, there is a woman inside a New York City apartment who is one of the last survivors of a global climate event. Something has gone awry with the earth, leading to extremes of heat and cold. Life is unbearable, not just because of the strain on the human body, but also because of the death and destruction that the disaster has caused. The tale focuses on a single woman doing her best to cling to life in the horrific conditions, but ultimately she becomes the prey of forces that nobody can control. 

I remember thinking that the very premise of this episode was too far fetched to even be interesting. I could not imagine the cycles of the seasons changing so drastically that people would die. Now I look at the strange weather occurrences that have become almost commonplace, and I realize that we got a warning from The Twilight Zone decades before scientists began to speak of concepts like global warming and climate change. 

I watched my own city endure five straight days of driving rain that inundated homes and businesses. This may have been written off as a once in a lifetime event, but in truth the incidence of flooding here is becoming commonplace. Each summer and fall I have witnessed increasingly horrific wildfires in the western United States. My regular visits to places like Colorado and California have shown me how devastatingly long term the drought has been. Places that were once green have turned into deserts of brown. Last winter many Texans, including me, spent days without heat while uncharacteristic cold froze our pipes and in some cases caused death. Somehow that episode of The Twilight Zone that I once almost ignored seems prophetic in frightening ways. 

I’ve often wondered how some people are able to look into the future and make predictions with such accuracy. Perhaps they are brilliant or much more observant than the rest of us. The talented writers of The Twilight Zone hit the bullseye so often that I find myself in awe of their prescience. Creators of art often have a deeper understanding of the human capacity to create chaos than even our scientists. Their stories speak to us in ways that lectures on the effects of carbon dioxide or the dangers of nuclear weapons do not. Humans have learned from lore and tales from the beginning of time. We would do well to consider the possibilities that come from the gifted minds of those who appear to know us better than we know ourselves.

I missed The Twilight Zone marathon this year. I’d spent too much time binging on movies and series during my time of pandemic isolation. Somehow I was in hopes of a better new year, and so I did not wish to spend my time watching television all day long. Nonetheless, I often think about the shows on The Twilight Zone and find myself wondering how many more of its predictions may one day come true. In truth, the main theme of the series is that we humans are often our own worst enemies. We create problems and ignore their consequences until it is too late. We react emotionally rather than rationally all too often. We have it in our power to work together, but cannot seem to find a sweet spot of common trust. 

I’m sad that so many died in the collapse of the Champlain South Tower in Surfside, Florida. We may never know exactly what happened to cause the tragedy, but it is fairly certain that problems were found and virtually ignored while the residents and the board of directors quibbled over costs and the realities of the situation. Innocents were lost because of our human tendency to ignore and even deny problems. We seem to be particularly bad at that all too often, leading to wishful thinking that cracks in walls aren’t really that bad, or a deadly virus will miraculously go away, or climate change is little more than a political myth. The Twilight Zone warns us again and again that our hubris and unwillingness to sacrifice and work together often leads to real and tragic disasters. When will we learn?

I’ve had a wonderful summer, but the giddiness that I felt back in early June has become more measured. The realities of the world have made me more pensive and less worried about my own fun, but more worried about the general state of the world. Let’s face it. Covid cases are on the rise, wildfires are raging around the world, the situation in Afghanistan is as dire as it has ever been, and there is a kind of anger around the world that has changed from simmering frustration to open rage. It would be easy to just close the blinds on my windows and retreat back into the isolation of last year, but I’m determined to find the sunshine and evidence of profound goodness in our world. 

Large numbers of people complained about the Olympic Games this summer. Many were angry with athletes who drew attention to concerns that they had about inequities across the globe. There were those who saw the current generation of champions as snowflakes without the drive and patriotism that once seemed to personify the heroes of the modern games. If I listened to all of the naysaying it would be easy to classify even the recent competitions as just more evidence of the demise of our society. Instead, I viewed the events with a very different eye.

This will go down as an historic event in the annuals of Olympic history. These were the games that might not have been were it not for the careful planning and attention to detail of the city of Tokyo and the committee in charge. It’s doubtful that the games brought the influx in cash that is sometimes the benefit of being a host, but perhaps this year the most important reason for fulfilling the promise of the games was in providing a venue for the athletes from all across the globe with a opportunity to demonstrate their prowess and skills. 

There is a limited moment in time for most athletes. If they lose the opportunities when they are young, there is rarely another moment that will work for them. These young people have worked for years to reach a level of competitive excellence. Taking that away from them would have been tragic. I applaud those who made the games possible and did so with enough precautions to generally protect the representatives in each sport. 

As for those who voiced their political concerns, I think that it is wonderful that they were free to demonstrate our true freedoms versus the young woman who had to defect from her native country for fear that she would be jailed. America is the land of liberty, and protesting is baked into our DNA. It is what our founders did when they had grown weary of the abusive policies of King George. To this very day people with a cause are free to peacefully make their voices heard. How great is that! Patriotism is not just about singing the national anthem or wrapping oneself in a flag. It is about the God given right to speak one’s mind.

This has also been a summer of nurses and doctors who continue in the battle against Covid-19 even as they endure criticism instead of the joyful support of a year ago. They are in the trenches feeling exhausted and frustrated even as they refuse to give up the fight. We should be shouting our support for them instead of insinuating that they have somehow mislead us. The truth is that nobody could have anticipated the mutations of the virus and the large numbers of unvaccinated who have held out even with the gift of free vaccines. Back in the early spring it seemed as though we would have most of the population fully vaccinated by now. In spite of a feeling that this did not have to happen, our medical communities are reporting to work every day and saving lives. We are incredibly lucky to have them.

Our teachers had a very short summer vacation and yet they were excited about returning to what seemed like it would be a somewhat normal school year. Now they are starting with the specter of illness hanging over their heads, an unknown situation that may dash all of their plans without a great deal of consideration toward how to proceed if the virus becomes a plague in their classrooms. Our educators are decorating their rooms, planning their lessons, and doing their best to proceed as if all is well. That’s what teachers do. They leave their emotions and worries in the parking lot and carry on with only thoughts of their students on their minds.

There are good things happening everywhere but far too many of us are focusing on what is wrong rather than what is right. Perhaps if we spent a bit more time showing appreciation for the positive actions of the people around us, we would all be better. Surely there are challenges to be met, but why can’t we also celebrate the fact that lots and lots of people are ignoring the negativity and doing what they have trained to do? The athletes are putting their hearts and souls into competitions. The nurses and doctors are quietly following their oaths to first do no harm. The educators are determined to keep our children learning. Let’s shout for joy that so much effort is being made by so many, and let’s turn off the noise that seems intent on putting them down. It may be a difficult time, but those who would insist that we are in an era of weak and ungrateful people, obviously are not seeing what I am seeing. There are still heroes among us, and they are glorious.

Last week I created a hybrid way of interacting with the world. July had been so free and easy, but August has brought outbreaks of Covid-19 in my area that forced me to rethink my plans for doing all of the things that I had avoided during the long months from March 2020 to May 2021. From May to the end of July I had become more and more inclined to feel as though the worst of our ordeal was over. I put away my masks and only carried a few in purse for use in places that were still requiring the face coverings, like doctors’ offices, some museums in New Mexico, and my hairdresser. I knew full well that not everyone that I encountered had been vaccinated, but I felt reasonably assured that I had protected myself and need not worry about somehow contracting the virus. Life felt really good and normal and fun once again. 

With August came dire warnings and new guidelines. I’ve pulled out the full complement of my masks from the drawers where I had hidden them, and once again automatically don them wherever I go, no questions asked. It’s easy enough to do so, even though I really do not like the feeling of being behind a mask. It’s something that I have had to adapt to doing, and I find myself becoming just a bit more relaxed about the routine with a bit of practice. The good thing so far is that I have not felt the need to become a recluse again like I was in the time before I was fully vaccinated. I’ve been having fun and seeing people albeit in more controlled circumstances than a few weeks ago.

I suppose that in some ways my background has prepared me for being patient and willing to accept changes in my lifestyle without much fuss on my part. I grew up in the hot and humid days before air conditioning, a situation far more uncomfortable than sporting a mask in a cool indoor environment. My mom was on such a strict budget that we mostly found our fun at home, so I’m not someone who feels persecuted if I have to entertain myself in my own backyard. As a child I had to adapt to all sorts of situations that people might have seen as privations, but to me they were just the way things were. As long as I had three meals a day and a bed to sleep in at night, I felt genuinely lucky. 

I suppose that I have viewed my personal experience throughout the pandemic in much the same way. I have missed the total freedom of my prior days, but on the whole life has been extraordinarily good. I have grieved over the loss of friends and acquaintances and worried about the welfare of others, but I have not resented having to adapt to new ways of behaving. I am happy to do my teeny tiny part in helping with the cause. I am more concerned with those who have lost their jobs and are on the brink of losing their homes. I worry about our youth who are most assuredly being impacted by the upheaval in ways that will change them forever. I am proud of those who have been flexible and conscious of the needs of everyone. Surely we are engaged in a worldwide community effort. When I see people working together without complaint I feel great hope for the future.

My husband and I had a wonderful day last week. We might have seen it as a disappointment given that we had to become more precautious again, but I found a sense of joy in knowing that we were not alone in being flexible to meet the current needs. We decided to spend the day getting out of the house. We began by enjoying fish tacos at one of our favorite haunts. We wore our masks upon entering and ordered our food from behind the cloth. We chose a table far from other patrons and felt relaxed and safe, and also good that we were not endangering anyone else in the event that we might somehow have contracted the virus. 

We followed our lunch with a leisurely stroll through a local plant nursery. It was quite lovely to walk among the flowers and to see the butterflies and bees bustling happily from one bud to another. We followed up with a visit with my father-in-law and mother-in-law, a treat that has grown more important in the past many months. They are both in their nineties, and even though most people might think of us as old people we are their children and they have begun to rely more and more on us for their care. It makes the precautions that we take to stay well ever more important. 

We ended our day browsing some of the stores in Highland Village, a shopping area that we have always enjoyed. Since we have been watching master class cooking programs we purchased a couple of tools for our culinary adventures that we did not yet have. Then we visited a lovely market where we bought fresh produce and baked bread. Nobody in any of the stores was spoiling for a fight about wearing masks. They sported their cloths of many colors and designs not so much resignedly but with the kind of twinkles in their eyes that serve as today’s smiles. It felt good to be among groups of people so universally adhering to common sense procedures without any fanfare or anger. 

The whole world is exhausted. We want normalcy more than anything, but perhaps we simply need to accept a new way of behaving until some wonderful future time when the danger of spreading the virus has passed. We can have fun, but maybe not exactly the way we always have. Change is inevitable under any circumstances. Those who learn to adjust become the fittest who survive. I understood that lesson as a child and it has always served me well. I’m determined to be nimble and optimistic. Doing nothing but grumbling has never worked and never will. 

The people who cross our paths in life all contribute to the process of making us who we are. Each interaction with another person changes us in ways both small and large. Sometimes we don’t realize the impact of another until years after an encounter. We often think back and realize how important a single comment or shared experience actually was. The intersection of different people at different times in our journey seems random, but sometimes its purposefulness becomes crystal clear. 

I met Glenda back at the dawn of the twenty first century. She was relatively new to the teaching profession but as the Peer Facilitator for the faculty members I realized that she had a natural ability to connect with people that made her an instant hit with the students that she taught. She understood that forming relationships was as important as delivering instruction. The two skills went hand in hand and she was masterful in that regard. 

Glenda and I mostly kept our interactions on a professional level. I knew that she had made a career change after working in the private sector for some time, but I never really asked what had prompted her to do so. I sensed that she was a woman of faith because of a cross that she wore around her neck, and I saw that she was kind and compassionate with both students and her teaching colleagues. I liked her and believed that she would become an extraordinary educator with the tiniest bit of polishing of her skills. 

My daughter had been unsuccessfully attempting to have children for several years. She endured miscarriages and health problems that only exacerbated her fears that she would always remain childless, but with the help of an exceptional doctor in Chicago she eventually became pregnant with twins. Nonetheless her state of pregnancy was precarious, and the doctor very honestly admitted that given her history she may or may not successfully carry those babies to term. 

She was exceedingly careful as the weeks and then the months went by. It appeared that this might be the one time that she would be able to carry her babies to term. She breathed a small sigh of relief as the gestation period inched forward. Then one day she went into labor far too early. Her children’s lungs were not yet well developed enough. If they were born so soon there would surely be complications too grim to even consider. The doctors made one futile attempt after another to stop her labor, but nothing was working. They only managed to forestall what seemed to be the inevitable just long enough to provide a procedure that might protect the babies’ lungs. Nonetheless they were honest that the little ones might have problems with their sight or even their brains. There was little that anyone could do. Birth would probably occur within hours. 

My son-in-law had been calling regularly to keep me up to date. I was devastated and worried to a point that I was walking through my work at the school like a zombie. I performed my duties automatically, but was in a terrifying fog. As I was strolling through the hallway during a passing period Glenda noticed my countenance and saw that I was behaving uncharacteristically. She sweetly asked if something was wrong. I took her concern as an invitation to unload all of my sorrows with a quavering voice that revealed how broken I was actually feeling. 

Glenda remained calm and told me that she was going to a Bible study at her church that evening. She assured me that she and her group would pray for my daughter and her babies after they had completed their studies. She wanted to know my daughter’s name and what the children would be called. She told me that the prayer session would begin about eight o’clock and assured me that everyone was going to be okay. 

I had nothing else on which to cling at that moment so her words gave me a small measure of comfort and I sleep walked through the rest of the day wondering when my son-in-law would call again with news that seemed to grow more dire with each passing hour. 

At about seven in the evening I received the call that I had not wanted to hear. My son-in-law announced that the doctors believed that the babies would be born within the next couple of hours and that saving them would be a long and difficult task. I resigned myself to the possibility that even after so much hopefulness my daughter might once again lose her children or have little ones with severe birth defects that would affect them for the rest of their lives. 

As I waited for word, I prayed and prayed. Then came the ringing of the phone at around nine o’clock and my heart was beating so fast that I felt as though I was going to collapse. It was my son-in-law with the latest news. My daughter’s labor had stopped at about eight fifteen and there was great hope that it would remain that way. The doctors had no explanation for what had happened, but were relieved that at least for a time a tragedy had been averted. 

My daughter spent weeks and then more weeks both in the hospital and confined to bed all in an effort to keep her babies growing enough to be able to enter the world safely. It was a trying time for her and her husband but they grew more optimistic with each passing day. Eventually the twins were born, still premature and quite tiny, but essentially okay. Their lungs were fully formed and operational. They were not blind. Their brains were fine. Both of them had a few problems, but they were things that the doctors could manage. 

I moved from the school where I had been working not long after the twins were born. I did not see Glenda again, but I often thought of her with such gratitude because I truly believed that her prayers had been the miracle that pulled those babies through. I never got to tell her how I felt until just last week when she suddenly appeared back in my life after almost seventeen years. She wanted to get together for lunch because she felt that it was more important than ever to connect with the people who impacted her life. Once again she seemed to be like a guardian angel watching over me just when I needed her because I was dealing with great pain and worrying what was causing it. Being with her would calm me once again.

We met at a little restaurant and sat away from everyone in a corner booth. We spoke of the ensuing years since we had seen each other. We felt as comfortable as sisters as we talked for over five hours just to catch up. Best of all I got to thank her for the miracle that I will always believe she helped to create. Those twins are entering their senior year of high school. They are beautiful and brilliant and kind. The world will be all the better for having them and I will always believe that Glenda was the angel they needed to stay healthy and alive all those years ago. We don’t always understand how miracles happen, but sometimes they do.