It’s been a wild couple of weeks here in Nashville.
With covid-19 causing illness, death and extreme disruption of routine life, it’s been rough all over the world, but on top of that, we were hit with a fierce tornado just before the pandemic took hold of us.
It’s easy to feel that everything’s ruined, especially if you’ve lost something or someone specific and precious. But it also reminds me of a song from the soundtrack of my teen years, Joni Mitchell’s Both Sides Now (Judy Collins’ rendition in particular).
The song is about looking at life from both sides, win and lose. The third stanza includes this line: something’s lost, yet something’s gained in living every day. Truer words were never spoken.
So what have we lost? What have we gained?
We lost a lot in the tornado. Irreplaceable historic buildings, ranches in Donelson, apartment homes, favorite haunts and hang-outs, family photos, heirlooms, entire streetscapes. And in some cases, we lost jobs, friends, and loved ones.
On the heels of this debacle came the pandemic, and the losses just keep piling up. More jobs lost. Coming soon, there will be friends and loved ones lost. And on top of this, our entire world has been put on hold, and we don’t know when, or if, we will be able to unfreeze the frame. Or what the world will look like when things start moving again. Scary!
So what have we gained?
Here’s my bet, or at least my hope: we will regain a sense of our common humanity.
In a time when we seem to be sinking ever deeper into our cloud-connected devices and detaching from the people next to us, the outpouring of generosity and volunteer labor that began before sunrise after the tornado was inspiring. Our need to connect with each other is, as it turns out, nearly irresistible.
Now that we are hunkered down, keeping our physical distance to avoid harm to ourselves and others, the need for human connection gets more acute. It’s only been a week and I’ve never had such a hankering for a simple thing like a trip to Target. Or an hour hanging out at Village, gabbing and getting a little work done. I miss people. I know, I know – I’m not cooped up in my house trying to home-school my kids. But even these beleaguered parents are missing connection with the wider world.
When the clouds pass, I hope that we will have regained some of our sense of community and common purpose. Gained a bit more appreciation for the pleasures of our commonplace routines. Gained a little gratitude for simply having survived.