Navigating Tragedy
In 2001, when 9/11 happened, I was listening to sports radio on my way to work. When the first tower was hit, the host interrupted the show to announce what had happened. He and his co-host were audibly shaken. They struggled for a few minutes, trying to report the news that was coming to them, and then stopped. I’m paraphrasing this next bit, of course, but the gist is true.
“What’s happening in New York is unimaginable. All of us are affected by it, and we’ll all remember this moment. But we are not a news show. We’re not trained for it, and that’s not what you’re listening to us for. So, we’re going to do our best to continue to talk sports. If you’d like to follow the news, turn to our sister station at…”
I finished my drive into my work, where I was part of the leadership of a small software company. We dug up an old television, set it up in the breakroom, and spent the rest of the morning glued to it as we tried to contact our families and friends.
In 2003, when the Columbia space shuttle burned up, I was digging a drainage ditch for Habitat for Humanity. I remember looking up and seeing something in the sky, though I’ve read that it wasn’t supposed to be visible from Orlando. Regardless, word of the tragedy spread through the crew. A bunch of folk went inside to watch the news. I continued with my work. I’m not sure why.
I’ve thought about that sports talk show a lot. At first, I was outraged that they would continue to talk sports, but not anymore. There’s value in turning away from horrible news, in giving yourself space to adjust. Just like it was okay for me to keep digging that ditch, it was okay for people to keep listening to sports.
There are no rules when it comes to reacting to tragedy.
There’s that old line about some people running toward the fire while others run away, but that doesn’t usually apply. Most of the time, there’s no running to do. The events of 9/11 and the Columbia space shuttle and the countless other disasters since weren’t things that I could do anything about.
For the past year, we’ve endured an endless stream of news detailing the cruelties of our government. Firings, abductions, murders… pretty much every evil ever conceived by mankind.
You may have struggled, like I have, with what to do. We can (and should) protest and call and contribute and vote. We can support each other. That is all necessary, but none of it feels like enough.
I tried to turn my writing towards attacking the evils of our politicians. I ended that almost immediately. Like the sports talk show hosts, it’s simply not something I’m suited for. Instead, I committed to writing these weekly articles about writing and life, to support other writers as best I could.
Is it enough? It doesn’t feel like it, certainly not in the face of what happened to Alex Pretti or Renee Nicole Good.
I don’t have an answer, but I do know that it’s important for us to give each other (and ourselves) grace. It’s okay to escape, to watch that silly show or read that awesome book. It’s also okay to throw yourself into your work or to take long lonely bike rides. Channel your feelings into your writing. Scream into your pillow. If you have to turn away from the news for a while, that’s okay, too.
Be there for your friends. Be there for yourself. Do what you can do.
It’s enough.
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