Hindsight or Blindsight?

People who know me know that I adore music. In fact, I’ve always wished my life were an actual musical… where at any given moment in time, I, along with those around me, break out into song and dance. It’s why so many friends and colleagues told me I HAD to watch a new series on NBC called “Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist.”

I’m behind the curve, so to speak, but I prefer commercial free viewing at my leisure anyway. Granted, the show offers the appropriate level of cheesiness that one would expect, but it also has some really sweet and poignant moments. For instance, in episode 4 the following idea was shared…

Big moments make big memories.

I love that!

I think big memories come from little moments too, but something about that statement heard on Easter Sunday during the middle of a global pandemic when I’m quarantined at home with my girls… well, it resonated. Especially when, after a homemade brunch (complete with paper plate bonnets crafted from random materials pulled from a basement drawer), we clicked onto YouTube along with 1.2 million other people waiting for Andrea Bocelli’s Music for Hope live concert from Duomo di Milano.

As Bocelli is singing “Amazing Grace,” I kept thinking about how “big moments make big memories.” That was met with seesaw emotions of the past month and the warm fuzzies of a holiday morning that was anything but normal. All at once, so many thoughts and ideas started to bubble and meld in my mind.

I remember the very specific details of the Challenger explosion (I was 8.5 years old). I remember every detail regarding my whereabouts during the O.J. Simpson Bronco chase (1994); Princess Diana’s car crash and subsequent death (1997); the Columbine shootings (1999); 9/11 (2001); and, the Virginia Tech tragedy on April 16, 2007. These are not exactly happy memories, but they are big ones for sure. Moments… memories… etched in my brain… where I was, who I was with, what haircut I was sporting at the time, and so on.

I also remember the first time my heart was broken. It was the fall of 1990. I was 13 years old, in 7^th grade, living in Charlottesville, VA. His name was Chuck. He was an 8^th grader who wore suits to middle school… every single day. Snazzy, right? There was a school dance and I wore what I thought at the time was a lovely, eye-catching outfit from Gloria Vanderbilt (admittedly, in hindsight, I think of it more as a bright yellow banana suit).

I waited all night for the slow dance he’d promised me in the hall during school earlier in the week, only it never happened. I did have the unfortunate opportunity to slow dance with another boy I had zero interest in for ALL 8 minutes of “Stairway to Heaven” (#painful). Who remembers such seemingly unimportant details 30 years later? I suppose some everyday moments, like your first school dance and boy crush, are big too.

Big moments make big memories.

I have many HAPPY big moments and big memories too, like… when I became the Region IV 100m hurdle champion, senior week in Myrtle Beach, SC, Tennessee football games as an undergrad with the incredible Peyton Manning at QB, competing at Miss Tennessee, the entirety of my Up with People travels and Cast C98 shenanigans, my bachelorette party, the mother-daughter trips with my mom to Savannah and Napa, my Sunflower Cove and Kitty reunions, the births and subsequent awesomeness (dancing, gymnastics, t-ball, soccer, holidays, traditions, snuggles, cuddles, hugs, love, and laughter) afforded to me daily by all three of my beautiful daughters, and so many more.

It is in the big and little, the happy and sad, the good and bad moments that we are defined. ALL of these moments write chapters in the story of our lives.

Which is why I cannot help but think… and to be sad about… the high school and college graduations that won’t happen as they traditionally have. The fact that there will be no dance recitals, no choir concerts, no proms. No Saturday morning soccer games with Starbucks in hand and a 7 year old on my lap. My 5^th grader won’t have her elementary school advancement ceremony or get to tour the middle school in advance. There won’t be trips to the community pool, or cookouts and BBQs with friends over Memorial Day. Summer vacations will likely be cancelled or postponed indefinitely.

The question that I cannot get out of my mind is…

How do we make this big moment a GOOD big memory… a positive moment that we look back on fondly… one that leaves us (all of us) not just okay, but better than we were before?

Perhaps this question stems from my own hope that we don’t go back to the way things were before COVID-19. I don’t want the ridiculous pace, the constantly moving, the being unnecessarily over-scheduled. It feels to me like we (finally?) have our priorities straight… we are focused on ourselves, on our families and loved ones, on our health, on our communities, our children’s education, and the welfare of our neighbors.

We (finally?) realize and appreciate the critical importance of our teachers and educators, our nurses and healthcare professionals, and our “essential” employees (those on the front lines, and who often make lower wages). We see the gross injustices and inadequacies of our “systems”—systems that also oppress— for they have been put in the spotlight and under scrutiny like never before. The climate is seemingly healing itself, which I find to be nothing short of miraculous. We recognize and are drawn to the redemptive power of the arts and music. Rest, exercise, family meals together, even laundry are all more easily accomplished (if so desired).

I’m not naive. I’m not uninformed or wistful. I understand the economic impacts (individually and collectively) of continued stay-at-home orders, quarantining, and social distancing. I know that many people feel alone and isolated. This is a global pandemic where more than 118,000 people have already died… a dismal number that continues to grow. There is illness, pain, death, and despair. The negative mental health impacts are not to be overlooked or discounted. I know (or hope hastily) that this is not our new normal. I know we won’t, that we cannot, sustain it.

But what if there is a happy medium… a compromise? What if this big moment becomes more than a bad memory? What if we take the best of these moments and make… create… the best for our future?

Big moments make big memories.

It is my hope that this big moment moves us toward other big moments… and to big memories… of a time when we are/were all a little kinder, nicer, more patient, caring, creative, and loving… to ourselves, and to others.