It’s late December, the clock’s ticking, and we’re almost done with 2020. A friend sent me a joke on Facebook this week. He had selected four book titles to describe the year: Great Expectations, A Series of Unfortunate Events, One Hundred Years of Solitude, and Far from the Madding Crowd.
What a year.
As 2020 finally draws to a close, what will stay in memory? Will our journals and blogs do justice to the “unprecedented events” of this year? What do I want my year – old grandson to know about 2020?
When he scrolls through historic archives, (whatever they will look like by the time he’s studying history) will the big headlines reveal how truly frightening it was? Each of us will have been impacted in our own way by events both far away and close to home: watching death tolls rise each day of the pandemic, more than 1 billion animals burning to death in Australian fires, blatant police brutality, planes blown up, hurricanes, refugees, rioting, lockdowns.
2020 brought to the fore haters and conspiracy theorists; news outlets screamed dire headlines, and every day social media wars were fought as regular folks, bombarded, tried to discern science from misinformation and hysteria. Countries struggled to provide adequate medical care in the face of collapsing resources. People we knew falling through the cracks. Isolation. Mental illness. Drug and alcohol consumption soaring.
Nor were our beloved cultural icons spared. I mourn John Prine , Alex Trebek, Notorious RBG, Diego Maradona, Brian Dennehy. I’m sure you have your list.
And close to home and hearts, the worry a close friend or family member might die in hospital, and we’d not be allowed to be with them. Was 2020 to be written off with angst-filled tropes?
No.
2020 showed something else too.
Scientists far from where I live didn’t give up. Vaccines were created. People started getting vaccinated.
What I saw where I live: People didn’t give up. People wore masks, kept distances, met outside, had gatherings by Zoom. A local ice cream manufacturer donated two giant freezers to store one of the vaccines safely. Love never stopped.
What I’ll want remembered: people had time now. To cook, to build, to repair, to get projects done. In June seven of us took part in an art show honouring the 100th anniversary of The Group of Seven. How did they solve the problem of safely distancing? The artwork was on display in large windows that you could view from outside. I collaborated later in the year on a cookbook. Six people were allowed in the gallery at a time, and we wore masks and didn’t linger. The gallery found a way to keep supporting and encouraging local artists. Handmade gifts started appearing. Creatives thought of new things to make, new skills to master. People now had the time – time to be kind, to be encouraging, to show appreciation. Food, flowers and books were dropped off on front steps and porches. We writers promoted local businesses constantly in our social media, stepping up and supporting our own entrepreneurs. Allies showed up for rallies, using their voices of privilege for social justice. I saw people get involved, demand action from government leaders at all levels.
December ends this strange, unsettling 2020 with a huge snowstorm. Neighbors on my street cleared snow from neighbors’ walks and driveways in unprecedented shows of thoughtfulness and kindness…people wave and smile at each other across snow banks.
Whatever you take away from 2020, it will stand out as both a year of challenges, and a year calling for change. This might be the year that changes us all. The year that showed us no matter how near or far away we were, love never stopped.
I’ll be sure to put that in my journal.
Happy New Year.
Yes, it was a hell of a year. I hope 2021 is less eventful so as to allow us to lick our wounds, grieve, become more politically active, and allow us to continue to create and share our love of art freely.