[Sent 21 August 2020 to my wife and three daughters]
‘Decency’ . . . ‘respect’ . . . ‘honesty’ . . . ‘courage’ . . . ‘sacrifice’ . . . ‘empathy’ . . . ‘dignity’ . . . ‘humility’ . . . ‘justice’ . . . ‘light’ . . . ‘resilience’ . . . – one presenter after another during this week’s Democratic National Convention authentically personalized, embraced, and reinforced these and similar recurring themes. For me, the most penetrating/convicting moment in the convention came last night with 13-year-old Brayden Harrington’s genuine/unadorned two-minute description – as he struggled with poise to complete several words -- of his life-changing meeting with Joe Biden after a campaign event in Concord, NH. Brayden’s father explained to Biden – “We’re here because he stutters; he wanted to hear you speak”. Biden hugged Brayden and leaned close – “I know about bullies. You know about bullies – the kids who make fun. It’s going to change. I promise you.” In case you missed Brayden’s presentation last night, here is the link – https://www.youtube.com/watch?
As I watched the convention night after night, my thoughts frequently recalled the anchoring/pivotal place Trina Paulus’ 1972 tale about two caterpillars – Yellow and Stripe – in her Hope for the Flowers had in our many dinner table conversations together as a family about how to live life well. You remember the story. Stripe does what he sees all caterpillars doing. As soon as he is able, he crawls with mounting excitement to the nearest pillar of caterpillars. These pillars tower into the clouds in every direction as far as Stripe can see. He does not question his resolve to make it to the top of one of these pillars. The method? Climb or be climbed. The reason? No one knows or takes time to ask. Stripe quickly gets used to pushing and being pushed, to kicking and being kicked, to stepping on and being stepped on. Part way up his caterpillar pillar, he crawls over a yellow caterpillar. Their eyes meet. They begin to talk as they continue to climb. The more they talk, the less single-minded Stripe and Yellow become. Stripe wonders to himself, “How can I step on someone I’ve just talked to?” He avoids Yellow as much as possible as they climb, but one day she is blocking his only way up. “I guess it’s you or me” he says and steps squarely on her head. The way Yellow looks at him makes Stripe feel awful as he faces the disturbing question -- “Can getting to the top be worth that?” He crawls off Yellow and whispers, “I’m sorry”. They decide to crawl down the pillar together, a hard but necessary decision in the search for another way of being. Once on the ground, they live in the grass, content for a time to romp and grow together, happy not to be fighting everybody every moment. But they both long to be ‘up’ and the only way they know to be ‘up’ is to climb a pillar of caterpillars, the top of which remains clouded from view. They ponder but cannot decipher the meaning of three caterpillars who fall hard to the ground nearby, smashed and near death – i.e., that cycle after cycle of desperate/frightened caterpillars clutch their positions at the pillar top until eventually the upward thrust from the caterpillars nearing the pillar top shoves them off/over the side. Finally, the restless Stripe without Yellow begins climbing again. A desolate Yellow daily watches in vain for Stripe to return. Then pensive, she begins to experience the mysterious transformation into a butterfly. Coached by a grey-haired caterpillar ahead of her, she decides to take the risk for another way to be. Without Yellow, Stripe climbs ruthlessly over other caterpillars. As he nears the pillar top, the mystery of the pillar begins to clear. He freezes, seeing what always happens – “Millions of caterpillars climbing nowhere!” Then a brilliant yellow-winged creature circles the pillar. The eyes/look convince him it is Yellow. He begins climbing down again, whispering with little success to those he passes that “I’ve been up; there’s nothing there”, but celebrating with the few who listen that “We can fly!” At times uncertain with dimming hope as he descends, he clings to the idea that “there can be more to life”. Positioning himself beside two torn sacks hanging from a branch, he lets go of everything familiar/comfortable and is enveloped in darkness as Yellow waits.
On the book’s back cover, Trina Paulus explained that the story is “for everyone except those who have given up completely”. Are there still at this time enough Yellows and Stripes? enough who have not given up completely? enough who can imagine a better way? enough who have the courage to risk the familiar/comfortable for the possible? This election will answer these questions – perhaps irreversibly -- for our society. Regardless of the election’s outcome, I am confident you/we will remain among those who value giving hope for the flowers.
Doug/Dad
