Stephen Metcalfe

A silly question on yet another world desolate day. Has it always been like this? Frightened, alienated people, uncertain about not just the future but the present day? If I look at the history book in my head – an elementary school book at best, one for first graders – I find I would have to say yes. I was born in 1953 some eight years after the end of WWII. The Korean War lasted from 1950 to 1953. The Viet Nam war went from 1965 to 75. The Gulf War was in the early 90’s, and conflicts in the middle east have carried America through much of these early 2000’s. Number of casualties from all these conflicts? I’m not really sure.
You see, I was aware and yet I was oblivious. I was too busy living. And one of the great things about America is it always felt, at least to me, like a safe place to live. It’s not just that we were a continent protected by two oceans. It’s that we were the free world’s defender, her champion. We tried to do the right thing for all even when, in retrospect, we didn’t, not even for too many of our own. We had leaders that we didn’t always agree with but that we respected. We went about our days as best we could, with a modicum of hope in hand. Add A to B and hopefully the sum would prove to be C.
And now this. A plus B equals anything. In fact, who even knows what A and B are anymore. Social media blares a misspelled hyper-reality at us on a moment-to-moment basis. The simple fact is we are at war again, no longer the defender this time but rather the aggressor. It is a war of modern-day missiles and bombs and pilotless drones – oh, and old fashioned torpedoes fired from nuclear submarines – all being quasi-led from a safe distance by a brutal, immoral, oblivious, egomaniacal excuse for a human being. Is anyone oblivious anymore? Is anyone safe? Can anyone kindly go about their days, focusing on the modest tasks at hand?
I no longer can. The world now seems to be running on incoherent noise; on the bark and rumble of engines, the cry of horns, the howl of blowers throwing fatal debris into the air. The morning paper depicts daily horror, in its headlines, in its articles and columns, in its photos. I tell myself all we can do is wait and hope but indeed, hope for what? That we finally come to our senses and care for one another? That we choose to be led by people who are dedicated to the greater good? I’m at a point where I’m no longer sure we ever have been. Call it old age.
Still –
I constantly tell myself to count the blessings I do have… family, home, friends. I tell myself to stand, speak up, be counted. I tell myself to give when I can, share when I can, help when I can. I tell myself to hope.
What else can one do?