Gray Grief

It's late April 2008. It's a warm and breezy afternoon, with a gray sky and intermittent peeps of sunshine. My carpet is vaccuumed, my dishwasher is loaded, most of my laundry is done, the groceries are purchased, my yard is mowed, and all should be right in the world. But my mind is gray like the sky.

I caught myself just now thinking, "It's such a nice day, I wish I could be happy."

Now, I am not feeling sorry for myself. I'm not unhappy. I'm just not happy. I'm not contented. Waves of angst continually wash over me like the breezes outside. Gas prices are climbing, surpassing what I've ever seen in my life. Our district is laying off teachers; "always" needing qualified teachers has reached its epoch (well, perhaps the district will still need qualified teachers, but the district is at this juncture unable to pay them). Housing has hit critical mass with defaulting mortgages and stalled home values. Prices are climbing for everything, not just gas, and whispers of food shortages and water shortages prey on the minds of those already in the grips of consumer hysteria.

I don't know that I'm hysterical, but certainly, the angst is exhausting.

The bottom line is that the poor people least able to afford these evolutions of the economy... young families, those working for little more than minimum wage, and those on fixed incomes... are not going to be able to survive, let alone make progress, at least for a while. There may be some sacrifice, if not actual suffering, in store for our nation, individually and together, in the coming months.

I could go into a diatribe of everything that's wrong with our country, but perhaps this point in history, we're part of what's really a global situation, not a national one. Pointing fingers is less useful than living conservatively and spending wisely. The truth is that factors beyond our borders play a huge role in our country's economic welfare, and besides, in a situation of this magnitude, it's impossible to blame or credit any one person or faction with responsibility for the problems or solutions.

Yet, as I sit here, I can only wish I could be happy.

Fifty years ago, the national problems were different; our economy was still coasting on a WWII-induced upswing. Who wanted to think of the boom ending or the wonderful national party finally hitting curfew? But it did. In the 1960's, America swapped safe tradition for the charismatic 1960's, and then in the 1970's, the price of gas was surpassed only by the length of lines of cars at the pump. Things changed. Unimaginably. Unpredictably. Yet reliably.

So now is now. And in another year... in another five years... we'll have a methodology in our lifestyles that nobody now can possibly predict or understand, however wise we think we are, however much we're too arrogant to admit it.

While any liberal environmentalist panicmonger can scream about water shortages or carbon emissions, at the same time as he or she screams, everything is changing. Others are designing newer and better ways to build cars, renew resources, and maximize efficiency. The world in which we live is not going to erode steadily in the coming decades, the world in which we live will evolve in coming decades. We must evolve with it.

Perhaps I could exchange the luxury of grief over the uncontrollable elements of daily life for faith in the American spirit. Americans are free. Some people abuse that freedom with sketchy lifestyles. Some abuse our country's goodwill by taking over-advantage of myriad social programs. Some steal from our country by living and working here illegally. Yet, the American entrepreneural spirit is one in which I have some faith. American ingenuity is a beautiful thing. I have enough faith to eschew fear. I must remember that.

Grief is a feeling of loss of something beloved and necessary. But what have I lost that is beloved and necessary? My feelings of safety and security? Feelings are neither beloved or necessary. My hard-earned money? I have enough, and while nobody I know is partying to pay more at the pump, so far nobody's really driving much less, either.

Save the grief for something worth it.