Special edition: finding our strength

On small men and Bach

My father used to rail against the president saying: that Nixon is a small man. My dad was not referring to stature, but to the kind of person who played fast and loose with the truth, and would eagerly serve on the House Un-American Activities Committee. If you don’t know the damage that that committee did, please look it up.

I’ve been thinking about this, as we experience the evolving catastrophe that is this regime.

I think Dad would agree that a small man is someone who disrespects and abuses anyone who isn’t who they see in the mirror. What a very small man is the current president. What an equally small man is his vice president, and so too the people that surround them.

If it is depressing and distressing that these people are in charge—and it is—I take strength from it. Because in the end, small men are weak. They do not have backbones to shore them up against the truth, and when the sky starts to fall, those around them abandon them quicker than you can say boo.

So let us find each other and join together, because we are stronger than they are. Strength means being vulnerable, and crying, and laughing, and loving. It also means caring about people other than yourself. It does not mean hurting and demeaning everyone who isn’t you.

I leave you with this achingly beautiful rendition of Bach’s Siciliano, played by Lang Lang, a pianist with sublime gifts. It’s short, and will, perhaps help you feel your strength. [via Vitaliy Katsenelson]

Love,

Martha