Do they Know?

“And the Christmas bells that ring there are the clanging chimes of doom!” I sang at the top of my lungs in the car ride home today, J.D. shaking his head at what insanely insulting lyrics make up one of my all-time favorite Christmas songs “Do they Know it’s Christmas?” As a kid, I used to sit on the dusty blue shag carpet of our living room and drop the needle on our record of this song over and over, poring over the album cover and dreamt of George Michael singing just to me and me alone.

Now that I’m an adult and swallowed the bitter pill of cynicism many years back, I hear that song so differently and wonder if it should even be allowed on the radio. It’s pretty racist and really inaccurate. Yet, still, whenever I hear those first few bars I have chills and I am instantly transformed to the floor of my childhood living room. For me, it was one of the first times I felt “woke” and realized that I had privileges not enjoyed by others. I was a sensitive kid and images of starving children used to make me cry at night. Setting all of that to music just pushed me over the edge. Then Cabbage Patch Kid fever took over my brain and I forgot all about starvation. A six-year-old can only be so woke.

My sensitive nature has bitten me on the ass more than once in my lifetime, maybe even more than a thousand times. The tears I wept as a child listening to Bono belt out“Well tonight thank god it’s them instead of you!” are still there, I’m just more selective with where and for whom I shed them. The world is royally screwed, of that I am most cynically sure. At times, I get bogged down by what life as a planet-dwelling human throws at us and feel powerless and depressed. Politics here, war there, it’s really hard to remain positive through all of that. I find myself wringing my hands at least five times a day, particularly when I hear David Muir start to drone on about the day’s news in his honeyed masculine way. Oh David, however do you manage to sleep?

As a Mom now, I find my sensitivity to be both a blessing and a curse as I care for my kids. After I returned home from my parent conferences the other night, Maire was beside herself to hear that I wasn’t going to be able to make it to her showcase the next day because of work. Her meltdown over the whole thing was one to behold and the two of us were sitting on the kitchen floor by the end of it. The week, for me, had been a long one—I had parent conferences, hot flashes, an insanely heavy period, and an inexplicable desire to run at random times. On a wing and a prayer, I was able to get permission to leave work early. As I rushed around school to get to the showcase on time, I discovered I was out of period supplies and thus showed up with just toilet paper holding me together. With concealer dabbed under my eyes to hide the bags and lines, toilet paper between my legs, and an ill-fitting outfit, I darted into the school so damn proud to just be there. “You have lipstick on your teeth.” was the first thing that Maire said to me. Not “You’re here!” or even a muted “Hi.” with a wave. So, I turned to the kid sitting next to Maire, smiled big and said “Do I have lipstick on my teeth?” He laughed, she died a little from embarrassment. She deserved it and then some.

As we all settle into the blackness of night, let us be reassured that we are “powerless” against all the evil in the world. The only thing we do have power over is ourselves. I can sustain my family through meals, help young teens find solid footing, show up to my daughter’s showcase with toilet paper wadded, and attend the high school musical because those kids are my people. I know that this is a simplified way of looking at influence but, with all I have going on, I need to take the boiled down approach. With any luck, the things I do each day will somehow ripple through the humans I come in contact with and those ripples will cause waves elsewhere. This is what I hope, this is what I pray for. As we approach “Thanksgiving” and all that the holiday implies, let’s all take a collective deep breath and know that we are powerful enough just as we are. Although Paul Young sang “we let in light and we banish shade”, we all know that can’t truly be done. What can be done is all up to us. Tomorrow I will teach Spanish. That, my friends, is all I can do. Maybe this should be my new Christmas anthem…