In light of an eclipsed world, balancing clarity and bamboozlement

 

By Mary Kay Roth

I started dreaming about cruising down the Douro River in Portugal almost a year ago when my friend discovered a river boat journey specifically featuring views of the summer solar eclipse. We signed up.

Lo and behold, several weeks ago we set off, flew to Porto, then languished in the beauty of the country and life on a river boat. We hiked, kayaked, strolled cobblestone streets of Portuguese villages and sat atop the boat’s top deck watching river vistas pass by.

The morning of the eclipse dawned clear as the crew passed out solar glasses and invited us to a special eclipse presentation. Late afternoon, passengers filled the top deck, gazing skyward while temperatures dropped and skies grew dark. As the moon began gobbling up the sun – like Pac-Man – we all oohed and awed. We reached perhaps mid eclipse.

Then the entire solar event disappeared behind a mountain.

We gasped, a boatload of disappointed – sometimes angry – passengers who were left wondering what had happened. We never saw the rest of the eclipse. We never got an explanation. 

I was upset and disheartened, but mostly just down-right confounded. 

The cruise line had advertised this journey for a full year.  And nobody had figured out there would be a mountain in the way?

Then again, I must admit, I’m confused a lot these days.  

Sure, I don’t understand people who can’t calculate the intersection of an eclipse and a mountain. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg. 

I don’t understand the absence of common-sense to reach all kinds of reasonable conclusions: Protecting parks and forests for the future of the earth – honoring the significance and value of public education – battling the cruelty of separating migrant children from their parents.

I am bewildered by bitcoins and cryptocurrency. My son has a bank that has no building. A cup of coffee at one of my fast-food stops costs $1.09, but they won’t give me change anymore if I give them a dollar and a dime. So, doesn’t the coffee really cost $1.10?

I’m baffled by people who never use their turn signal.  Or why Harry and Meghan are coming “home.”  Or semicolons – does anyone really understand those? And don’t get me started on “six-seven.”

In fact, we now live in a mixed-up country where despicable people like Donald Trump and Tucker Carlson radiate cult appeal. Where a vagina apparently prevents you from becoming president of the United States. And good grief, where people imagine the song American Pie is the work of the devil – and that the election of 2024 was rigged because a crazy man tells them so. 

Then of course, please explain how citizens of Nebraska can vote for a variety of initiatives, then state legislators have the ego and audacity to override them. Or how our state senators can transform a group of trans individuals into villains, when they are simply humans trying to live their true lives. 

Explain how an awful creature like Elton Musk can be the richest man on earth – with $873 billion – while a hard-working family of four is barely able to cover increasing costs of groceries, lodging, utilities. 

Or, why on earth is your god better than mine?  And vice versa.

Sometimes I wonder if all these misunderstandings are a function of age and that I’m simply becoming a curmudgeon. My dad worked for the telephone company for decades, yet never figured out how to use a cell phone.  He kept waiting for the dial tone.  

Still, on these sweaty, late-summer days, it seems there are new horizons of bamboozlement.

True confessions, I can’t really tell you how wifi works. Or dry cleaning.  Or mahjong.  Or black holes.  I’m muddled by commercials that never tell you what they’re advertising. And the elusive strategy of Lincoln’s street repair.

This week I read the United States currently carries a record $40 trillion in national debt. I’m at a loss to wrap my arms around that number.

How big is $40 trillion?  Google tells me that $40 trillion is more than the median value of every single-family home in America. Forty trillion dollars is twice as much as the combined net worth of every single billionaire on earth – in fact, it would take more than 50 Elon Musks to equal $40 trillion. And if you stacked 40 trillion $100 bills, the pile would be about 27,000 miles high (enough to wrap around the globe).  

I’m told the national debt has reached $40 trillion because the federal government consistently spends more money than it collects in taxes, a debt that includes all money owed to others, as well as – believe it or not – what the government owes itself.

Owes itself? 

Last I checked it was pretty risky to borrow cash from myself. And when my car loan is overdue, I barely have time to come up for air when I am warned to pay up.  

The world befuddles me. 

The richest 10 percent of the global population owns roughly 75 to 85 percent of all personal and household wealth worldwide – leaving the bottom 50 percent of humanity with roughly 2 percent or less.

Yet we are boosting the national debt by building gilded ballrooms, ensuring luxurious tax cuts for the rich and funding ridiculous wars – at the same time a family without a home cannot qualify for a reasonable loan and we can’t cover basic health care for our population.  

So, at this point in my rantings you may wonder if I’ve written this blog to see how many synonyms I could use for the word, “confused.”

Yes, I am flummoxed by why manual cars now cost more than automatics.  I am perplexed that my new refrigerator will never live as long as my trusty old one which survived three decades. I am bemused by $500 blue jeans and the money we spend poisoning our front yards.

But this blog is about more than synonyms.

I suspect many of you are just as confused as I am these days, taking plenty of deep sighs and aspirin.  So, I’m thinking this is a most important time to clearly identify what does NOT confuse us.  

Bottom line, I’m not confused about grandchildren.  Grandchildren are gold. 

I’m not confused about the importance of protecting our most vulnerable against cruelty and inequity – about remembering to stand up for those core values of kindness and empathy.

Honoring scientific conclusions does not confuse me: The necessity of childhood vaccinations. Sheltering our good green earth. During COVID, using treatments recommended by wise medical officials. 

Frankly, I’m confident honest politicians still exist – along with election commissioners who stand firm.  I’m surely not confused about the absolute and essential necessity of voting.   

And though I’m a little confused about cappuccinos, lattes and frappes, I’m not confused about the delight in a simple cup of black coffee.

I’m completely clear about Bob Marley’s song, Three Little Birds, which will consistently and always make me feel better. And, apologies to Judy Collins, but I do really know clouds – they’re grand. 

I’m not confused about the rightness of public education.  I’m crystal clear about the importance of continuing to read and finding good sources and resources.

I am absolutely not confused about friendship.  Friends are my salvation.  Or my dog, Pip – and the love of a rescue pup.  Or family dinners, the warmth and wonder around the table, even when we don’t always agree.

And, finally, believe it or not, I’m not really confused about remarkable celestial events. Just loan me a cool trillion and I’ll go find another solar eclipse.