By Butch Freedman
“The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposing ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function. One should, for example, be able to see that things are hopeless, yet be determined to make them otherwise.” -F. Scott Fitzgerald
I recently asked my writing workshop group of brilliant writers to respond to the prompt—”It was the best of times, It was the worst of times.” (Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities) They could write about either or both of the parts. I allowed only 10 minutes to write and watched as pens flew across paper. The prompt clearly touched a writing nerve. Folks were still scribbling when I called a halt, and asked for volunteers to read. Perhaps unsurprisingly, there was a lot of overlap in the responses. Unsurprising— as we are all of a certain age and well-informed. I wish I had their notebooks in front of me so I could quote some of their well-honed sentences, as these are talented and thoughtful wordsmiths. The gist of it is this: Most of our group wrote, in varying styles and emphases, that our present world embodies both the best and the worst, and that some days it’s hard to keep both in mind. Yes, the world and specifically our nation, feels at times to be crumbling beneath us, as trump blusters about starting wars and holding human cage matches on the White House lawn. It’s obscene. But on the other hand, here we all are living in a beautiful world alongside the Pacific Ocean and its soothing rhythms and tides. And, yes, we recognize our privilege. Most do not have this life. Many struggle every day to find shelter and food, or to avoid the attacks on their freedom of speech or ability to live peacefully without fear of being harassed and deported. For them our current world is a true horror-scape. One by one, each writer seemed to come up with versions of this same scenario, the mixing of positives and negatives, this struggle to deal with the cognitive dissonance we find ourselves in. (There was one writer who brought down the consensus and good vibes by writing about a failed early marriage—the worst of times. Shame on you, Butch.)
Joking aside, and we do a bunch of that in our weekly writing classes, I found the responses and the deep concerns, even the guilt, to be a profound expression of how we live in the year 2026. It does feel Dickensian. Privileged or not, we all are exposed each day to a new assault on common decency. Our democratic norms and traditions are being stomped on by an out-of-control, malignant narcissist, and the people who support him—or are cowed by the demented monster. Yet, we have no choice but to find a way to deal with these two opposing forces in our lives—and to make the best of it. We mustn’t let either the good or bad go unserved. We can both walk on the beach every day, tend to our gardens and friends, and at the same time stay vigilant about the happenings around us — especially those we can have some impact on.
‘This too shall pass,’ as my parents used to remind me when I was suffering from some adolescent setback. And we can make certain that it does pass. We can, and must, stay joyfully engaged in resistance — now there’s a true test of cognitive dissonance. Hold the ugliness of Maga in one hand, and retain empathy in the other. It can be done. I think. You know, a lot of these folks are simply mis-informed or uninformed. But even the staunchest of trumpers are seeing the cracks in the surface. They are not getting what they were promised. And they feel it in their pocketbooks and even somewhere in the better angels of their souls.
It’s a time to grit teeth and labor on. The good and the bad are both real, but come the mid-term elections, or even an earlier break in the bubble, will bring us back to where we belong, happily tending to our gardens and loved ones.
Subscribe to butchblog.com it’s free. A very good price.
