Thanks for this: “The growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.
Thank you, Sydney Lea and Sari. I wake up at 5:45 on MWF to drive my 13 y/o grandson (whom I'm raising) to his bus. This morning, as his dog sleeps on my legs while we wait for our boy to get out of bed I was mesmerized by your essay. Every word is golden. Thank you thank you thank you on this dawning and daunting February morning in Los Angeles. Now I think I'll read it again.
Oh my this was so beautiful I couldn’t stop reading it. And true. One thing that struck me is cutting wood for the widows, the ill etc. I probably couldn’t tell you who on my block let alone neighborhood was sick or in need of a hand. I don’t even know most of their names. That’s the part that stuck with me. Yet - The nostalgia for the good old days” only accounts for the beautiful, simple moments — not the harsh winters without central heat and the deaths that are now preventable.
I love this, also the memories it’s prompted. I’m 62 and currently grappling with all that’s going on in our country and all the (“I can’t believe we’re living through this”) moments I’m having. I remember my father, a first generation immigrant who once he married my mom, moved far away from the noise of his family of origin. As he got older his dream was to open a country store in Vermont, never happened though, it felt out of left field given his upbringing in Brooklyn and ours in suburban Midwest. I can’t help but wonder what he was searching for and maybe it was exactly what this essay speaks to, perspective. Just what’s needed today, thank you.
You temper nostalgia with the darker memories here: a good reminder that it's rare for any time or technology to be all good or all bad. And we're seeing this in the present, as diseases that vaccines had nearly wiped out are eschewed as evil, and remembering that personal connection - like knowing our neighbors and being willing and unafraid to help strangers - still matters. Thank you.
My first read of the day, and I am so grateful for this beautiful story that reminds me of why we are all on this earth. Memories such as these pave the road for our future. The great world keeps moving. I remind myself to take a breath, pause and hear the stories of the wise. Thank you.
Just beautiful. I could feel my own body slowing down as I read it, pulling me into a different time.
Thanks for this: “The growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.
George Eliot, Middlemarch
This was magnificent.
Thank you, Sydney Lea and Sari. I wake up at 5:45 on MWF to drive my 13 y/o grandson (whom I'm raising) to his bus. This morning, as his dog sleeps on my legs while we wait for our boy to get out of bed I was mesmerized by your essay. Every word is golden. Thank you thank you thank you on this dawning and daunting February morning in Los Angeles. Now I think I'll read it again.
Thank yo SO much, Linda!
Oh my this was so beautiful I couldn’t stop reading it. And true. One thing that struck me is cutting wood for the widows, the ill etc. I probably couldn’t tell you who on my block let alone neighborhood was sick or in need of a hand. I don’t even know most of their names. That’s the part that stuck with me. Yet - The nostalgia for the good old days” only accounts for the beautiful, simple moments — not the harsh winters without central heat and the deaths that are now preventable.
we have selective memories, but there is something to miss there
I love this, also the memories it’s prompted. I’m 62 and currently grappling with all that’s going on in our country and all the (“I can’t believe we’re living through this”) moments I’m having. I remember my father, a first generation immigrant who once he married my mom, moved far away from the noise of his family of origin. As he got older his dream was to open a country store in Vermont, never happened though, it felt out of left field given his upbringing in Brooklyn and ours in suburban Midwest. I can’t help but wonder what he was searching for and maybe it was exactly what this essay speaks to, perspective. Just what’s needed today, thank you.
You temper nostalgia with the darker memories here: a good reminder that it's rare for any time or technology to be all good or all bad. And we're seeing this in the present, as diseases that vaccines had nearly wiped out are eschewed as evil, and remembering that personal connection - like knowing our neighbors and being willing and unafraid to help strangers - still matters. Thank you.
This makes me wish I were teaching 19-year-olds again and could discover their responses to this essay.
We talk about “values” a lot today. Your rider embodied them. Well done.
Beautiful story
Thank you for this beautiful essay❤️
My first read of the day, and I am so grateful for this beautiful story that reminds me of why we are all on this earth. Memories such as these pave the road for our future. The great world keeps moving. I remind myself to take a breath, pause and hear the stories of the wise. Thank you.
Thank you, Margaret! Glad it appealed.
My grandmother went from Kitty Hawk to the Moonwalk to 9/11.
This essay is thought provoking and has me thinking about “ the good old days “.
Well we do have the beach, which even on a rather grim day like today, is guaranteed to lift the spirits.
This was a great read, thank you so much!
Thanks so much!