Have We Learned Nothing?
Oh my dear sweet humanity, please surprise me in a good way for once
Hello Friends,
Last night rather than watch the odious “presidential” debacle of lies, I sat down with my wife to watch A Bridge Too Far (1977). I was feeling sentimental because of the death of Gene Hackman. A Bridge Too Far, though not a commercial success, has all the famous stars of the day back when they were young.
It features Sean Connery, Michael Caine, Robert Redford, James Caan, Anthony Hopkins... it's kind of ridiculous how many famous people are in it. Plus, the screenplay was written by William Goldman (The Princess Bride). If you're a writer, you seek out anything written by William Goldman.
It's a movie worth watching just to remind you of how young and strong and hopeful we all used to be. It also reminds you of the futility and waste of war, but we can't seem to learn that lesson.
All war films fail to convey that point. The audience always gets caught up in the spectacle of glory, and they forget about the misery of defeat. A Bridge Too Far failed at the box office because it's about a colossal defeat... of the allies.
Appropriate for our times it seems.
Today, nothing feels safe. Nothing. We've got a president who is more effective at making promises than delivering. The lies are piling up and set to topple over.
There's a scene in A Bridge Too Far where a beautiful mansion has been reduced to rubble. You see a tank rolling over the bricks in the street. Even the preserved bricks are useless because they're covered with awkward chunks of mortar.
Waste... waste... waste.
Consider all the struggles you've had to endure in your life. Consider all the times you fretted because you didn't have the money to pay a bill.
Now consider how rich and powerful people will reduce a mansion to ruin just to amuse themselves. How should that even make you feel? Angry, frustrated, despondent?
Disappointed?
I think I feel disappointed. I'm not sure what I feel.
There are some tragedies in life that should be easy to avoid, but then end up becoming inevitable. You just can't convey some realities to people until they've experienced something awful.
Take the example of a kid who drives his car too fast. No matter how many times you tell him that it's dangerous, he's lured by the thrill of speed.
The thrill of speed.
The thrill of speed.
Then he accidentally kills a little kid who ran out into his path to chase a ball. Only then does the lead foot realize that the thrill he got from speed can never balance the agony of his guilt.
Not even close.
At that point, he recognizes he'd give everything to regain the place of gentle calm he felt even without having to race his car around. But that pinnacle that felt like a plateau before the accident is gone forever and it's not coming back.
You're never going back.
So he never drives fast again. He goes through life in listless misery. He shakes in terror every time he sees a kid running into the street. In his dark moments he howls, “Why didn't anyone warn me?”
And we can only reply, “We did. We did. We did. Why didn't you listen?”
That's the question of our age. That's the question of all humanity. How do we get people to listen. How? How? How?
How do we make people see reason and avoid the path of tragedy?
They don't learn. They march stubbornly and unwaveringly down the road to ruin. We say, “Don't go, don't go, don't go!” And they manage to drag us down with them.
I keep alternating my tactics. Sometimes I try to be gentle. Sometimes I try to be cruel. I'll plead with them. Then I mock them. I don't reach them. I barely scratch the surface. What's the answer?
How do I get the kid to stop driving recklessly?
How do I save the child who runs out into the street?
Why does it feel as if some must be sacrificed? I reject that. I cling to the hope that we can avert these senseless tragedies.
They can't be undone. What a waste. What a waste.
Quit reducing all our labors to rubble. We worked so hard and all we wanted was a brief reprieve. We don't need our private islands and yachts. All we want is a picnic with our families. That's it. We want a little bit of health. We want a little bit of rest at the end of the day. We want the opportunity to learn a little more about our reality.
Why do so many people steadfastly oppose all these aspirations?
Why are they so committed to an ideology of punishment and destruction?
The human race experiences revelations in cycles. We have times of hardship followed by times of ease. The last time of ease, for Americans anyway, has lasted 60 or 70 years. We've grown entitled. We've grown complacent.
Hubris has collected on our psyche like cancer.
We're about to get tossed into the grinder. The hubris will be the first thing that's chipped off. It will provide scant protection. It's not armor. It's the opposite of armor in that it invites misery. It's a misery magnet.
Hubris.
That's what makes you think you can drive fast without any consequences. That's what makes you think you can vote recklessly. That's what makes you think your country is exceptional.
You can't outrun your guilt.
We're about to find out. I hope we can learn the lesson and minimize the suffering, minimize the loss, minimize the waste.
Maybe the strike of the lash is dulled as the human race collectively travels through time. Maybe there's a reduction in pain with each cycle. I hope.
Learn the lesson. Spare the innocent. Turn back.
That plateau of peace you scoffed at during your illusion of strength becomes something you appreciate when it's stripped from your grasp.
Focus on the good things. We are mortal, and our time here is short. Too late we learn, but there is no escape. The lesson is inevitable. Awake! Awake!
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I'm practically in tears reading this because it reflects almost perfectly what I've been thinking, what's been going through my head day after day. It's been bottled up inside for more years than I can say.
You're correct. There's no going back. Nothing has been learned. Nothing it seems, is being learned now. To what end will all of this end up? I have no idea.
I always try to be optimistic, but it's harder & harder each day. The physical pain within me, coupled with the pain of watching what has unfolded over many years and is unraveling now like a societal ball of yarn being played with by some psychotic kitten, is overwhelming. I suppose I'll just continue to watch this train wreck to it's inevitable conclusion. Nobody is paying attention.
You know you're getting old when you become "that guy." I am that guy, so I need to mention that Goldman wrote the screenplay for "A Bridge Too Far" as an adaptation of the novel written by Cornelius Ryan.
"I keep alternating my tactics. Sometimes I try to be gentle. Sometimes I try to be cruel. I'll plead with them. Then I mock them. I don't reach them. I barely scratch the surface. What's the answer?"
I'm definitely like that with my various attempts to understand Trumpism through my writing. I figure not many Trumpists read my stuff, so maybe it doesn't matter, but I keep alternating my tactics anyway. Nothing works.
In fact, it seems to be getting worse. Democrats are flat-footed, lazy, and uninterested, aside from a few obvious exceptions who seem to be screaming into the night in a place where no one else seems to dwell.