If we think about it, a generation’s lifestyle is fundamentally defined by its technology, or lack thereof.  Consider life before running water. Or cars. Planes. Television. The internet. Cell phones. Our technology dictates how we spend our days, when we come right down to it.
 
With a lifestyle of immediate gratification (everything from "zoom"ing to "fast" food), we feel patience is harder for us (and our kids) than it was for those generations before us.  Tyler seemed hellbent to prove how thin patience really is this week (both his and his parents). He had three days off preschool (thank snow for two of them) and we ran out of ways to say,  “No, you can’t be on the iPad” all day.  In my creative writing, I get impatient by telling rather than showing (telling is quicker! less space too!). Friends in Austin this week felt super impatient for the cold to be over!
 
Of course, our patience is beyond stretched when it comes to quarantining, zooming, social distancing, and yet…here we are.
 
In pondering this, I was reminded that impatience is nothing new, and when acted upon, never quite yields the results we're hoping for.  
 
Lillie Grace is writing a project on President Lincoln, so when her dance class was canceled due to snow, we finally watched Spielberg’s fascinating Lincoln film. Incredibly intellectual and political (critics would say slow moving), the story centers around passing the 13th amendment (abolishing slavery).
 
In 1865 (weeks before Lincoln's assassination) Radical Republican Thaddeus Stevens (played by Tommy Lee Jones) is clearly out of patience with Lincoln (Daniel Day Lewis) for not passing this amendment (which we in the 21st century hold to be self-evident).  Lincoln tells him, “I admire your zeal, Mr. Stevens, and I have tried to profit from the example of it. But if I'd listened to you, I'd have declared every slave free the minute the first shell struck Fort Sumter (4 years prior). Then the border (slave-holding) states would've gone over to the Confederacy, the war would've been lost and the Union along with it, and instead of abolishing slavery, as we hope to do in two weeks, we'd be watching helpless as infants as it spread from the American South into South America.”
 
Sit with this. Timing (patience) was crucial to abolishing slavery. By steam plowing ahead with the best of convictions,  slavery would have persisted. The Union would have been lost. Trump's stomping ground would officially be the CSA.
 
One of the things that makes Lincoln a truly great leader is his patience, that virtue we all struggle with.  Lincoln took a firm assessment of the reality of his times and acted accordingly. (Case in point: Lincoln’s own Vice-President Andrew Johnson, once he became president, vetoed this slavery amendment twice).  It's so important to assess what*is* against what we *want*, and find the best time to act, not just act when we want. And yet, still act when it is a wise time!!!  It's all a balance.
 
In assessing our current times, our options are pretty much patience and peace or frustration and aggravation.  Even those who get the vaccine will only have the antibodies for a time! At this point, the CDC has conservatively guaranteed three months of immunity, though many scientists are speculating it’s good for hopefully up to three years. Either way, it means we’ll still have to shelve dreams of life as we knew it, (with live concerts and theater) for the rest of 2021.  
 
How did Lincoln maintain patience?  He immersed himself in humor and stories. In light of this, Lillie Grace and I have turned to Humor Seriously, a research book by two Stanford professors. They have collected data on humor, and present levity as a *learnable* superpower that can boost creativity, diffuse tension, build bonds, increase patience, and enhance life.  The average four-year old laughs as many as three hundred times a day (hello Tyler when he isn't thinking about his iPad!!) compared to the average 40 year old, whom it takes 2.5 months to laugh the same three hundred times!! (ahem, this stat even gets grimmer until we reach 81, then skyrockets to laughter! Is this due to not giving a crap at that point? Dementia?) 
 
So far, we’ve found the introduction interesting, but dry for a book about humor. But we’re patient. After all, we have nowhere to go.

​“When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time”  
- Maya Angelou.  
Angelou’s profound words have saved me a lot of time, grief and drama. I don’t see them as judgmental as much as observational and respectful.
 
Her advice guided my actions in 2016, when Donald Trump was campaigning.  Trump's lies, misogyny, racism, narcissism, blatant disregard for science, education, the environment & our institutions were all on display during his campaign. Therefore, I boycotted his inauguration, and took my six-year old daughter to the Women’s March in downtown Los Angeles on January 21, sign in our hands and pussy hats on our heads.  
 
Never having marched before, I feared violence, and my husband shared that concern, suggesting I leave our kindergartner with him at home. I was firm: “When Lillie Grace is 80, and the Trump presidency is considered one of the worst in our nation’s history, I want her to remember that she publicly opposed it from Day One. If it gets too violent, we’ll come home.” 
 
It was an epic (and peaceful) day, one I will remember for the rest of my life with fondness and pride.
Had I known how magical the experience would be, I would have insisted that Jory come with 4-year old Ali and 6-month old Tyler. But fear and common sense prevailed: Ali was prone to complaining about fatigue after five minutes of walking, and Tyler required a battery of diapers, wipes, bottles, and pacifiers to go anywhere.
 
So it is a powerful memory that Lillie Grace and I share with a few million people around the world. A photo of us in our pussy hats has been my Facebook profile picture as a form of quiet resistance as long as Trump was in the White House.  
 
However, I didn’t attend any of the subsequent marches in the following years, because after its initial euphoria subsided, I was disappointed to discover that our march, the biggest in the history of Los Angeles, a world-wide phenomenon, had changed exactly nothing. 
 
It wasn’t until Wednesday that I realized I’ve been holding my breath for the last four years, wearing a mantle of shame and apology.  I’ve felt helpless.  I stopped reading/watching/listening to the news, only following Dan Rather’s News & Guts updates on Facebook. The news made me too angry, and increased my despondency.
 
On Wednesday, I finally exhaled. I so hungered to hear a leader embrace inclusion, unity, hope and renewal that I took both my girls out of school for the occasion. Biden’s deep compassion is one that emanates from someone familiar with suffering. Like his hero Lincoln, he has buried two of his children, which gave both of these leaders another perspective. Biden pledged to put his very soul in to his work, like great artists do, and this very act inspires, both him and those around him. Like Lincoln, Biden is familiar with failure, and thus has learned to take ego out of the equation. He has much to teach us as we work to rebuild, to end our uncivil war. Like Lincoln, Biden is inheriting a terrible mess. Like Lincoln, he leads by example, and seeks to save the Union.

Problems can be opportunities, after all.  It just depends on the stories we tell ourselves about them.

Biden's brilliant inaugural speech was a call to action, the urgency of which was belied by his calm and modest demeanor. He implored us to “add our own work and our prayers to the unfolding story of our nation”.  
What can that look like for each one of us?  How can we, through our own personal gifts, efforts and grace enhance our country in our time?  
 
Although Biden is humble, let us not miss his call. As we each become our best selves, our country cannot help but reflect that. 
 
Let's sit with his words: “Don’t tell me things can’t change…Let our story tell ages yet to come that we answered the call of history.  We met the moment.”  

What can each of us do, teach our kids to do, to add beauty and grace to this horrible and terrific moment in history...
for our family...our community...our country?

Four years later, a new profile picture. (I'll soon replace it with one with Ali, Ty or Jory - no favoritism!)