IF WE SO DESIRE

I often dream of an alternate world, very much like this one in some aspects, but vastly different in others. I am me, but lived a different life, made different choices, ended up in different situations. And on several occasions, I dream of the same alternate world. There's nothing amazing about it. I don't have super powers or anything. But I never quite made as much of a living out of theatre, never married, never moved past where I was after getting out of college. Last night, I dreamed of that world, and I was working a summer theatre gig somewhere in the middle of nowhere, some part of the country that is mostly working class people trying to get along. In the dream, I had this awful, ancient computer with mice living inside of it. I was doing summer theatre and teaching at the local school's summer session to make ends meet. A group of students, another teacher and I were near a room I was renting in this shabby house outside of town, playing touch football. And I got a phone call that change had finally come, that I was to pack up my stuff, I was going to be paid to be a writer and needed to hit the road and head for Los Angeles. I went to start packing. My meager belongings were dirty, falling apart, and I decided to dump most of them. I did need my computer, but that was in bad shape as well. I opened up it up, looked inside, and it was full of old yarn. So into the trashcan it went, I got in a car, and headed for points unknown. As the dream ended, I felt this great joy, a mix of calm and excitement. And I knew I would never be the same in that world again.

Sort of feels like right here and now. We can argue all we want about the need for haircuts, wearing masks in public, and where or not the President was serious or using sarcasm when he suggested we all shoot up with some disinfectant. But one thing that is a fact, so much so that most folks don't even talk about it, is that we have changed forever. Probably more than we changed after 9/11. I don't know all the particulars of that change, but I feel it in my bones, in my soul, in my dreams. How we approach this life, how we deal with healthcare and our food and our air and each other, it's all different. And will continue top be different. Most of these changes will become apparent once we crawl out of our respective caves and gaze at each other in wonder, happy to be alive. I sense this change is every person I talk to, with every neighbor we wave hello to and say muffled "hellos" to through our masks. Even the revelers who try their best to deny it, who rush to the beaches or secret parties or rallies on the steps of their capitols are different. Their desperation gives them away. What happens next is anyone's guess, but in a way, I feel as excited as I did in that dream, loaded up and heading for the great unknown.

Change. It's inevitable. We watched another great movie last night, a little family drama/comedy by Noah Baumbach called The Meyerwitz Stories (New and Selected). So funny, sad, interesting, and smart. And one of the best performances by Adam Sandler. The change in the story, which takes shape at this art show with a heart breaking speech by Ben Stiller, is healthy and needed. As with all change, it's difficult. And we don't get to see what happens after the characters change. We just see them make the change, and it's uplifting and hopeful.

I feel uplifted and hopeful. There is terror in the world, and death and pain and sorrow. But we can change, we can adapt. We can be great if we so desire.

Here's a song. It's Old Man, by Randy Newman, performed by Glen Philips in some gym.

And here's a bonus link to an article about change in the NY Times. Just click HERE.