May 25, 2009--The Ladies of Forest Trace: Fear Itself

I was late for a meeting and decided to let the answering machine pick up the call. From the hall I could hear that it was my 101 year-old mother who was calling from Florida. When someone is that age, no matter the state of her health (which in her case is blessedly excellent) and from the tone of her voice on the machine, as agitated as she sounded, I had no choice but to race back into the living room to pick it up.

She was more breathless than I, “What’s up?” I asked, worried but still hoping to get to my meeting on time.

“I just heard them say that ‘They turned fear into policy.’”

“Them? What?” I had no idea what she was referring to.

“On television.”

I knew she kept CNN on all day, in the background, since she was eager never to miss any “breaking news,” especially if it was about a disaster. At her age all such disasters are personal—metaphors representing her day-to-day reality: one heartbeat from oblivion.

“Is there something in the news that has you all upset?” Actually, I was the one who was upset—though I was relieved to realize she didn’t need to be taken to the emergency room, I was annoyed that she had interrupted my getting to a meeting that was important to me. Thus, I wanted to make this short.

“What is it mom? What has you so aggravated?”

“I’m not aggravated,” she said in a voice that suggested how aggravated she in fact was. “It’s what he said.”

“Who? What?”

“I don’t remember names. You know that. How many people my age remember names? At times I even forget mine.” I was happy to hear her laugh at her own joke.

“OK, just tell me again what whoever it was said. I assume on television.”

“Yes, on CNN. I always watch it. Except at 8 o’clock when I watch that Reilly, what’s-his name?”

“Bill O’Reilly.” I knew she was devoted to him even though she disagrees with virtually everything he says. He amuses her, she always tells me. She watches for the entertainment.

“That that Cheney, who just made a long speech, right after Obama—did you watch them?” I muttered that I had. I didn’t want to engage her fully, still feeling we could talk about this later and I could get to my appointment. “Well the commentator said that Cheney and his so-called boss, Bush, took our fear after September 11th and turned it into their policy. And that Cheney is still trying to do it. He said that he counted how many times Cheney mentioned 9/11 in his speech—27 times I think he said. He’s still trying to scare us he said. And I wanted to know what you think.”

I decided I could reschedule my meeting for later in the day and told my mother to hold on for a moment while I made a quick phone call. This conversation with my mother promised to be too good to miss, so I placed my call. I thought, how many more opportunities would I have to have talks such as this with a mother so ancient?

“So, tell me again, what made you so aggravated?”

“Again you’re not listening to me—I’m not aggravated, I’m angry. There’s a difference.”

“You’re right. There is. So tell me.”

“It’s not what you expect. After the attacks on us we were all afraid about what had happened and what would come next. There is no argument about that. But that’s not what Cheney’s speech made me think about.”

“Go on.”

“That fear I can understand. It’s all that other fear that concerns me.”

“I’m not sure I’m following you.” I had sunk back into a comfortable chair.

“I’ll give you a for-instance. Also on the news is all this talk about the flu. The one from Mexico.”

“The swine flu.”

“Yes, that one.” She paused to allow that to sink in.

“Again, I’m not seeing your point.” I really wasn’t.

“I know it’s a terrible thing when anyone dies too young or unnecessarily—not like here where we are dying all the time. But we are old and full of conditions. But, tell me, how many have died from this flu? I think maybe two or three in the United States. The latest one that school principal in Brooklyn.”

“Actually he was an assistant principal and it was in Queens.”

“Assistant, Brooklyn, Queens—stop correcting me. What difference does it make where he worked? That is not my point.”

“I’m not sure I’m getting your point,” I couldn’t help myself from snapping.

“My point is, if you will only be a little patient with me, is why are they closing all those schools? Why are all the headlines about this? Why has it been for weeks all they talk about on TV? All that breaking news about a few hundred sick people and a handful, may they rest in peace, deaths?”

“But mom . . .”

“Don’t ‘but-mom’ please. I know from the flu. When I was a young girl millions died from the flu. Some of my closet friends and their parents. It was in nineteen hundred . . . I forget.”

“1918.”

“Yes then. I was exactly 10 years old. Of course we were scared, but in spite of how terrible that was, I don’t think we were as frightened as people are today about something this minor.” She took a deep breath and before I could say anything added, “I know I may be sounding heartless, but this is nothing, thank God, by comparison. How many died then?”

“I think at least 25 million.”

“So what is all this fear about? How many have died this time? In the whole world? A few hundred?” I didn’t say anything. “Even in Brooklyn, where we lived, there were so many bodies that they had to put them out on the street. To wait to be picked up. That was something to fear. And so that’s my question and why I called you. As you said, all aggravated. Which, by the way, I wasn’t.”

“Your question? I know it was a terrible time then. When you were a girl. But I’m not sure I understand your question.”

“So let me try again—then millions died and, though we were of course afraid, we didn’t fear things in the same way we do now when only hundreds are involved. I know you are going to say it’s because I watch TV all the time. And I know that that’s a part of it. How they have to fill time and scare us with murders and hurricanes and flu’s like this one to keep us watching. But I don’t think it’s just that.” Again she paused as if to let me fill in the rest of her explanation.

“What else is it then if it isn’t media hype?”

“It seems to me that we have lost our toughness. Let me give you a few more examples.”

“That would be good.”

“Take that prison in Cuba. Geronimo, I think it’s called.”

“No, mom, it’s Guantánamo.”

“That’s the place. Where they have all the terrorists.”

“I’m not sure everyone there is a terrorist. That’s part of the point about closing it. To figure out who all the detainees are and bring them to justice.”

“I know that, but that’s not my point. I do understand why Obama wants to close it. Didn’t Bush also? But that’s neither here nor there. What I am thinking about is why everyone here seems so afraid about putting these men in prisons in America. Don’t we have child molesters and mass murderers in prisons in the United States? And isn’t it worse to have them living near people than someone who is maybe a terrorist? I heard about this small town in, where was it? The one with the empty prison that wants to take these terrorists so they can have the jobs that would mean?”

“I think it’s in Montana. Yes, I heard about that. They need the jobs there.”

“And so what did the two Montana senators say? Both Democrats I think. The one I saw on TV, who I believe is a rancher and looks like a cowboy, he said he would never allow even one prisoner from Geronimo to be put in his state. Can you believe that? That big strapping fellow afraid to have any of them there? Has anyone ever escaped from one of these prisons? What do they call them?”

“Supermax. High security prisons. No, no one has ever broken out.”

“You’re making my point for me. We say all these tough things about terrorists and going to war against them. As we should. Of course not in Iraq. But then when it comes time to do something to get involved—even in just this way—we shudder in fear. Of what? Don’t you have terrorists in jail up there in New York?”

“Yes, we do.”

“And are people afraid of them?”

“I don’t think so. Probably until now no one knew or thought that much about it. Maybe now that it’s all over the news, as you would say, people here will call for them to be transferred to Guantánamo.”

“Yes, that’s what it’s called. I keep forgetting.”

“I think I’m getting your point mom, and I don’t disagree with you. I too have been wondering what happened to us. I mean. As a people. You mentioned living through the 1918 flu when so many died, even right in your neighborhood.”

“And also in my house.”

“I know that. You told me. And you also told me how you lived through the Depression.”

“Yes, it was awful, and there was fear. You remember what Roosevelt said about fear—that it was what we had to fear. Itself.”

“Well, I wasn’t born then so I don’t remember that, but of course I heard and read about his first inaugural address.”

“That was it. And though it was a very, very difficult time—tens of millions I think it was lost their jobs and we didn’t have all the things we now have. Unemployment insurance, Medicare, Social Security. Things that should make people feel at least a little bit taken care of. That should allay some of their fear. But I hear so much gloom and doom. People are talking on TV as if this is the worst thing that ever happened to Americans. To any people. In all of history. Some people are talking about taking all their money out of the stock market and banks and buying gold and leaving the country. As if there is a safe place to go.”

“I’ve also heard these things. A lot of smart people who should know better are in a state of despair and panic.”

“Again, you’re making my point for me. Of course times are hard, very bad, especially if you are a certain age and lost your job or home. There is almost nothing worse than that. Though if you were here and had dinner with some of the girls, like I do every night, you would hear much worse. These ladies at Forest Trace have seen it all.”

“I can only imagine.”

“No you really can’t. You thank God never experienced what we experienced. Most of the girls are old enough to remember that flu and of course also the Depression. And don’t forget the war. Our war. And what happened to all of our families who couldn’t escape from Europe. You know of course what I’m talking about?”

“Indeed, I sadly do.”

“And don’t forget, and you are old enough for this, don’t forget the Cold War. Remember that one?”

“Yes, I do. Young people now don’t remember what it was like to be afraid that Russia would drop atomic bombs on us. Not just theoretically, but in reality. We had take-cover drills in school and every week or so the air raid sirens would go off in the city and we had to race to the basements of office and apartment buildings where food and water were stored.”

“And remember that one of your uncles, who lived in the suburbs and had a house on an acre of land, thought seriously about having his own air raid shelter built?”

“I do remember that. It was a very scary time. Especially in 1962 during the Cuban Missile Crisis.”

“Scary, yes, and we legitimately lived in fear. But we kept living in spite of everything going on around us. And these were real threats. Big ones. But we didn’t panic as I see so many people doing now when, though things are bad, they are not what we had to endure.”

“But surely there are equally real things for people today to fear. Iran is working on atomic weapons and just last week launched a new kind of rocket that could reach Israel and parts of Europe. There are already nuclear weapons in Pakistan that could fall into the hands of terrorists who might try to use them against us. These are real fears, not small or imaginary ones. So maybe you are doing a little exaggerating?”

“Maybe a little. I acknowledge what you are saying. And maybe in order to try to understand the larger issues I am focusing on some of the smaller ones. Sometimes that helps. Like fear of the Mexican Flu.”

“The swine flu,” I corrected her, “It only appears to have originated in Mexico.”

“Where it came from is not my point, but I understand what with so many people fearful about immigrants—another exaggerated fear I believe—that we shouldn’t make things worse by calling it that. I think Reilly does. Of course he would. Or is it that Dobbs person on CNN? I keep forgetting.”

“Both, but no matter about that. Your memory’s fine for someone half your age. But about your point—about how sometimes little things can reveal things about larger issues . . .”

“Yes that. I was trying to get to that when you distracted me. One last example, since I know you have an appointment to get to. You know how I love children.” She had been an elementary school teacher for much of her life and still keeps in touch with many of her former students who attribute their success to her being their first teacher. “So this is not an easy thing for me to say.”

“I’m listening.”

“Have you every watched that Nancy Grace?”

“Not really. I can’t stand her.”

“Well, you should try one day. Just to see what I’m talking about. All she talks about day after day is that beautiful child who was murdered not far from here, in Florida. For months she has been been going on endlessly about her and her mother who is accused of killing her. But who according to Nancy Grace, without even having a trial, is already guilty.”

“I know about this. Cayle Anthony. Who was just three years old. Whose body they just found.”

“So you see, you do know about this. Terrible, tragic. But as awful as it is—and I devoted my life to children like her—why are we so obsessed about this? Why is her TV program top rated? Why are so many parents fearful that their children will be kidnapped and murdered? That they won’t let them out of their sight for even a minute. I was a concerned mother but I always allowed you and your brother to play in the streets and to go into different neighborhoods and walk to school on your own. I think the only day I took you was on you first day in kindergarten. Other than that I encouraged you to be on your own. To gain confidence by being independent. Was I a bad or neglectful mother?”

“Just the opposite.”

“What has happened to all these mothers—I know I should say parents—that they are motivated by so much fear? This doesn’t mean that they should ignore dangerous situations, but their worst enemy is the fear that has taken possession of their minds.”

“I do follow that. And agree with you.”

“There—I’ve finally managed to say it. What I mean is how the biggest dangers we face are the ones that we have allowed to take possession of our minds. That’s what Dick Cheney was doing again in his speech. If we continue to allow this to happen to us, the terrorists will have won.”

“Again, I agree.”

“Isn’t that what terrorism literally means? To do things to people that so terrorizes them that they are ultimately disabled, defeated by their own fear? That’s what I am seeing all around me. This kind of terror. This kind of fear.”

I was glad I had rescheduled my appointment. This insight, this lesson was precious to me. At 101 my mother was still teaching. “So go,” she said, “Don’t forget your meeting. I know it must be about something important.” And with that she hung up.