Commonalities

Commonalities

   There are things that we, as humans, all share.  And often we search for those things for our comfort, whether we're recuperating in a hospital or chatting in a market.  Beyond the basic needs of food, water and sleep (Maslow's pyramid), we can relate to others no matter where we are, geographically or economically...at least, one hopes that we can.

   This was shown in the films, Stalingrad and It Came Upon A Midnight Clear, the fighting of war interrupted for one brief day and and one brief evening, the realization coming that the people shooting at you and people you were trying to kill, were young like you, had families and girlfriends like you, and were hungry and cold and just wanting to go home, wondering what all this was about, just like you.  And as quickly as it cane, it was over;  back to bullets and anger and a puzzling mix of emotions.

   On a broader and perhaps happier scale, you can hear this in comedy as stand-ups try to relate to certain pieces of our lives that we may share.  It's a difficult bridge to cross, deciding if your audience is your age, or your sex or has your interests.  The funny comedy bits hit those generalities and perhaps make us look at a subject we didn't or don't want to discuss openly...our kids, our bedroom antics, our politics, our aging parents.  This was recently done by cartoonist Roz Chast in her best-selling book, Can't We Talk About Something A Little More Pleasant.  Sometimes, the comedy plays on common things that we never thought about as in Jerry Seinfield pointing out his feeling uncomfortable at being the best man at a wedding.  "Can't they change the wording?," he asks, "because if I was the best man, what is she doing marrying that guy?"

   My friend wrote of a fraility now happening to her, her hand beginning to crunch and close, slowing turning into a fist as if she were on the verge of becoming a witch out of Snow White, shrunken and clutching, all happening out of her control.  Still, she drives others to dialysis treatments, takes them to shopping outings and to doctor's visits, having the unfortunate job of also watching her riders come and go, sometimes never to return.  It's another commonality.  As Atul Gawande's reminds us, we will all (one hopes) share the experience of growing older, even as the torch passes.  Go not gently into the night.

   The January/February issue of Esquire also added to this, writing that funerals are "the single moment when we are called to consider, if not speak, our most irreducible truth about what matters in a life.  You will learn that each of us --that any of us-- might really matter."  Their issue has the cover headline in bold letters: The Meaning of Life.  But traced between the words are smaller, fainter letters, turning their wording into How do we reconcile The best things in our lives even as we seek Meaning in the tragedies and injustice Of our time?  Life is rich and complicated like that.

   One interview in the issue was with musician, Danger Mouse, who's both produced and played for the likes of the Black Keys and U2.  Staying mainly with hip hop, he was blown away by a Pink Floyd song in a bar, even asking the bartender who that was and what was the name of the song.  He had heard of the group but assumed they were hard rock, nothing he would be interested in.  "And then a thought hit me: How many other things have I been missing because it wouldn't have fit in with me socially?  That moment changed the way I saw the world.  What food had I not eaten because it looked a certain way?  What people had a not hung out with because they dressed differently?"

   Another interview follows, this one with Captain Ron Johnson of the Missouri State Highway Patrol, a black officer who was heavily engaged with the events of Ferguson, Missouri, a police officer who attended the services at Greater Grace Church despite the family not wanting any police to attend.  But after the service, the family did want to see him.  "I went in there, and when I looked in their eyes...they had lost their son, and no matter what you think about what happened here or who's at fault, someone's lost their son.  And when I looked in their eyes and I told 'em I was sorry that they had lost their son, the blank stare that I got, it wasn't a blank stare of hatred, it was just a blank stare that you never want to see in anybody's eyes."

   Who's to say when our commonalities will show up.  After a disaster --an earthquake, a power outage in severely cold weather, a pandemic, a nuclear bomb-- even the wealthiest person becomes someone hungry, someone cold, someone appreciative of care and attention.  So it is with the homeless or the injured, the person looking okay but just not feeling good or having a bad day, the person smiling at you or the person shouting at you.  At those times, almost at all times, we still crave pretty much the same things...acknowledgement, compassion, empathy.  Those are things that we all  have in common, even if they're sometimes hidden.

   Captain Johnson ended his interview with this:  If you don't know someone black, you need to meet someone black.  If you don't know someone white, you need to meet someone white.  If you don't know someone Hispanic, if you don't know someone who's gay or lesbian...You need to go meet somebody that's different than you.  'Cause it's those difference that are driving us apart.

   It's so easy to issue judgement, from appearance to actions, from words to glances.  But it might be even easier to look at what we have in common...we may just be surprised to discover what we've been missing.