The Dogwood trees are blooming here in the south, and thanks to daylight savings time, the sun is hanging around for a few more hours. All this makes for conducive sitting on the deck after work, sipping a cold glass of chardonnay and relaxing. And boy, do I need it. We all do. It’s been a truly rocky road with our withering economy and I know I’m not alone in feeling shell-shocked. The insecurity of lost wages has taken its toll on everyone. It’s been nerve-wracking watching the stock market teeter-totter, dropping over 3,000 points since last fall and taking most of our retirement savings with it. And no one has escaped the abysmal aftermath of watching banks “too big to fail” fail. We the People are uncertain about the future and feeling something not felt since 9/11… fear.
F-e-a-r. It’s not only a dirty four letter word, it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. Franklin Roosevelt said it eloquently in his famous inaugural speech, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” And that’s the thing about fear. It only begets more fear, which when cultivated, is paralyzing. It can also be the undoing of an entire nation. Fear and panic go hand in hand, and it is panic that pilaged the small island of Iceland when the entire banking system imploded. Their currency, the Kronar, disappeared overnight and in what seems a very absurd scenario, people who had seen their wealth climb sky-high by funny financial finagling, were bombing their Hummers for the insurance payout. Even as I write, Ireland struggles to stay afloat, which is literally no small potatoes for these hardy clansmen. But I have a lot of faith in the fighting Irish, and I have a lot of faith in the U.S.A. It might be hard to stomach the stuff you’re hearing on the news these days, but we are a resilient people. Fear does not reside in our comfort zone for long. Anger, however, is a different story.
What’s that, you say? Anger? Executive bonuses the size of Texas being paid for by the tax dollars of yours, mine and ours while the same executives continue to flaunt their riches in the form of MacMansions and corporate jets. AIG blatantly doling out million dollar bonuses to people who live outside the U.S. and, in some cases, no longer work for the company (at least 700 employees became millionaires overnight!). Bernie Madoff fraudulently bilking family, friends, and most of the Jewish Manhattan population in a stupendous Ponzi scheme while he and his wife Ruth sail around the world on their yacht, appropriately named“Bull”, as in the financial worth of Madoff’s client portfolios. Millions, billions and now trillions of dollars being spent by our government to make things right again. How many zeros is that? As a nation, we are loath to accept the indignity of being ripped off. Who’s not angry with something or someone these days?
Oddly, anger can be a good thing. While fear accomplishes nothing, and certainly nothing constructive, anger can be the impetus for great change. Its redeeming quality is that it is a catalyst for action. Whether we really want it or not, change is ‘a coming. It won’t be an across the board pleasant experience because there will be many disagreements on who and what has to change. You can count on it to be sweeping in its scope and it will affect us all in one form or another. But as we carry on, the grand machine that Americans are, it will make us whole again. For, sadly, we’ve been pursuing an extravagant interpretation of the American Dream that is not realistic and, worse, even counterproductive to mainstream issues. Originally a concept based upon freedom, the American Dream has evolved over the years to become an icon for the fruits of our labor, a beacon of light for those who chose to work hard and achieve success. Unfortunately, somewhere along the line, the accumulation of obscenely vast wealth was added to the largeness of the American Dream and that’s when the trouble began.
When the American Dream becomes a broken dream rendered ineffectual by a hefty price tag too overwhelming to bear, perhaps its time for a wake up call. This spring the wake up call, just like daylight savings time, came earlier than expected. But, as I relax on the deck with my glass of Chardonnay, admiring the blooming Dogwood trees, I feel something greater than all this muck and mire called “the financial crisis”. It’s the thing that moves us forward despite a dismal forecast at odds with our inherent desire to accomplish mighty things.
I feel hope and hope springs eternal.