brushfire"This, yes, this, it was always like this." -Stanley Koehler
REFLECTIONS OF AN EMPTY NESTER
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As virtual commencement ceremonies take place across the country, words of advice abound. Graduates will be told to seize the day, believe in the beauty of their dreams and be the change they want to see in the world. These lofty messages are intended to inspire graduates to become the best versions of themselves while making the world a better place. They’re commendable and entirely forgettable. And all too often, they’re negated by more practical advice behind the scenes from well-meaning adults. Perhaps this is why a story told by broadcast journalist Soledad O’Brien, the keynote speaker at my son’s college graduation last spring, resonated so much with my family. O’Brien shared an anecdote about when she was approached by a popular women’s magazine for inclusion in their Mother’s Day issue. They were featuring prominent women from a variety of fields and wanted to take a photo of her with her mother to include in the inside spread. “What was the best advice your mother ever gave you?” they asked her. “Most people are idiots. Don’t listen to them,” was her response. Needless to say, O’Brien and her mother were not included in the special edition. The story generated a laugh, but it struck home. How are young people to “believe in the beauty of (their) dreams” when so many well-intentioned adults squelch those dreams with harsh realities? My own grandfather, according to a favorite family story passed down through the generations, was one of those adults. As a minister, my grandfather often was charged with counseling people in his congregation. A man and woman implored him to speak with their son, who was headed to New York City to pursue a career in acting. Their plan for their eldest child and only son was for him to remain in his hometown of Indiana, Pa., and take over the family hardware store. My grandfather agreed to meet with the aspiring actor. Afterward, my grandmother asked him how it went. My grandfather described a tall, awkward, gangly young man who had no hope of success on stage or in film. “The Stewarts have nothing to worry about,” he said. “Jimmy will be home in no time.” Fortunately, whatever advice my grandfather gave Jimmy Stewart that day went unheeded. But it wasn’t wrong for him to offer it or for Stewart’s parents to be concerned. Jimmy Stewart made his acting debut during the Great Depression. I don’t envy anyone tendering words of wisdom to graduates this year. Do you acknowledge the uncertainties ahead? Be less resolute in your advice to seniors when doom and gloom predictions loom over platitudes about brighter days on the horizon? These are young people for whom a global crisis isn’t an abstract notion, but a reality. And what can you say that hasn’t been said many times before? I will invoke a quote from my grandfather — once again passed down through the generations — for the Class of 2020. These words aren’t meant to temper dreams or discourage efforts to change the world, but rather to provide solace when the unknowns outweigh the knowns and factors lie outside our control. I have shared them at various times with my own children to brace them for uncertain outcomes, as my mother did with me. “Hope for the best, prepare for the worst and take what comes.” Perhaps this is what my grandfather told Jimmy Stewart those many years ago. And while it’s not the loftiest advice, it will come in handy at the most unexpected moments. This appeared in the May 21, 2020 edition of the Grosse Pointe News.
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Mary Anne BrushJournalist, fiction writer, wife and mother |