Formative Fictions

By the age of ten or eleven, most people have achieved distinct identities, with a global outlook, depending on the specifics of their environmental circumstances. Many kids this age have strong opinions, likes and dislikes and points of view.

Child development experts posit that personality formation occurs at ages far younger, and I'm in no position to challenge them, but the social emergence I'm talking about becomes more apparent to adults when kids start expressing their opinions more confidently.

At some point in my own development, I became fascinated by the stories writers told about themselves -- about learning to write. I read everything I could on the topic, hoping to figure something out that perhaps was better left inscrutable.

Most of my quest to understand writing and writers concerned fiction. That in turn led me in many directions, intellectually and socially. I'm not sure how many lectures I attended on the topic but it was a lot. The reading rooms in local bookstores hold no mystery to me, nor do the coffee houses and bars nearby, where I met afterwards with more than several of the featured writers.

By contrast, the origin of journalism and what made a person become a journalist, were questions that held little appeal for me. After all, I *was* a journalist and it was clear to me that we see and hear things on the edges of what is known, that we harbor suspicions, that we start sensing a pattern, that we pursue the topic at hand, and that we become obsessed until we corner our prey (let's generously call it "truth") and that finally we execute it (write).

We're killers. Story hunted, story found, story told.

The aftermath of this, however messy, was usually left to someone else.

***

There is only one story now. and it is too big for journalists: We are confronting mortality on a mass scale.

In general, our perception of the prospect of going extinct varies according to age. Recently at dinner, we were discussing an incident that occurred a few years back when an urgent message popped up on everyone's cell phone in Hawaii that there was an incoming missile and that "This is not a test."

In fact, it was a test but by the time that was announced plenty of people had had plenty of time to consider their options.

Upon hearing about this incident, my 11-tear-old grandson said he would have grabbed a boat and gotten out of Hawaii. His 40-something parents discussed the possibility of getting into a crawlspace under the house.

I thought to myself, "What would I do?" The answer was to shelter in place. I'd probably also turn on the TV. And maybe eat some vegetables.

***

With so many people now in quarantine from their jobs in the White House, and with the President and Vice-President stubbornly refusing to wear masks or maintain social distance, many of us are waiting for another shoe to drop.

As we wait (and it *will* drop), it's worth thinking about the scale of this particular formative experience on our societies going forward.

Not every consequence will be negative. Children may gain a greater say over their own lives, educations, family roles. Maybe our first responders will start getting the compensation they deserve for putting their lives on the line on our behalf. Maybe we will think deeply for once and not elect politicians who pander to our worst fears. but to our better selves. Maybe we will use our time better, seeking loftier goals individually. Maybe we can slice just a bit more off of that profit-seeking side of our economy and establish self-sustaining lifestyles instead.

With disaster looming, small steps in the right direction are okay. They are fine. Let's say you have some Brussel sprouts, hopefully organic and locally grown. You can walk over to the kitchen, get out the bag of vegetables, fill a pan with water and light the stove. Get out a cutting board and a knife and a frying pan plus a plate and a fork. As the sprouts soften in the hot water, lift them out gently and halve them with the knife.

Here you can get a bit creative. Coat the exposed half with an herb of your choice. Then place them in a pan, exposed side down, and sauté them in butter or olive oil until they brown just a bit. They should remain firm. Try to not let the outer leaves fall off.

Drain them on a paper towel, place them on the plate and eat them slowly. (Oh, and compost the paper towel.)

In my view, this exercise is something we all ought to be able to do to fight Covid-19 and feel good about ourselves. It's healthy, it's responsible and it reduces the stress that we all feel. Plus it tastes pretty damn good.

***

You know, the truth is  I *did* finally figure out the existential puzzle that is fiction. It's simple: Lots of people like to make up stuff. That includes writers.

And the great writers make up stories that are true.

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