Tell Me Something Good

I know I said I'd cool it with the song titles, but this has been in my head all day. On several occasions, I've said it out loud. I need to hear something good; I think many of us do. When I went onto the base for my class tonight, I had my usual exchange with the guards at the gate: "How are you all doing tonight?" "We're fine, ma'am. How are you?" "Not bad, thanks." But tonight I added, "Tell me something good. I've been hearing too much bad." They thought for a few seconds, and then one of them smiled and said, "I get off in a few minutes!" I replied, "Well, that's good for you. Okay, I'll take it. Have a nice night." I had just heard the news on the way to work that they found that poor child -- the one who was snatched up by the alligator at Disney -- dead but intact. I guess the fact that he hadn't been shredded by the alligator is something good. The whole thing is just awful, and Orlando seems to be getting slammed with one tragedy after another.

When I went into my class -- five minutes before class started as opposed to my usual half-hour early -- I said the same thing to my students. I think they thought I was joking. We joke a lot, my students and I, which is indeed something good. But tonight I wasn't playing. No one had anything good to tell me. At least they were all there and prepared. I heard my phone buzzing on silent while I was teaching, and when I got to my car I saw my oldest son had left a message. We tend not to talk for a week or so, but when we do it's usually a several-hour conversation. When I got home, I calld him back. I didn't ask him to tell me something good. Instead, I updated him on the near-view of everything that's been going on. He watches local (to him) news and I wasn't sure how much he knew. He let me talk, whether he already knew about things or not. He's good at that, listening and understanding. For half an hour, I thought I'd never shut up about mass murder and it's ripple effects, and toddler death-by-alligator, and he didn't try to stop me. And then a funny thing happened: I didn't want to talk about any of that anymore. For the first time since Sunday, my mind was (perhaps temporarily) free to think about other things.

We talked for another hour or so, chatting about his work and our upcoming family vacation, all the fun things we would do and how nice it would be for all of us to be together. That son, in particular, seems to somehow sense when I really need to talk to him. Finally, we exchanged I love yous, and for at least a little while, the world feels like a better place.