From 100,000 To 1
Carol Rogers-Shaw • June 5, 2020
There is something profound about reducing 100,000 to 1, yet knowing still that your own 1 is replicated in other stories of other people’s 1.
Photo of Irene C. Mulligan Rogers taken by Carol Rogers-Shaw
"As she handed the phone back to the nurse, I heard her start to cry. I heard her say she missed us. I was alone with my dog, walking through the neighborhood, and I couldn’t stop sobbing."
Billy Collins was the U.S. poet laureate when the 9/11 attacks took place. He wrote a poem to honor the victims. It is called "The Names" in honor of the victims, their loved ones, and the survivors. He goes through the alphabet, seeing the names of the victims in the natural world, in raindrops, on flower petals, on tree branches (https://www.pbs.org/newshour/show/poet-billy-collins-reflects-on-9-11-victims-in-the-names). The last line of the poem is “So many names, there is barely room on the walls of the heart.” There were 2,977 victims of 9/11. Already there are over 100,000 Americans who have died from covid-19. How can we even begin to fathom what that number is like?
In schools around the country, elementary students celebrate 100 Day by bringing in 100 pennies, or paper clips, or Cheerios. What would 100,000 pennies or paper clips or Cheerios look like? The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum has a collection of 4,000 shoes representing only a small fraction of the victims of the Holocaust. What number would we choose to represent the victims of covid-19? What item would we collect?
On May 24, 2020, the New York Times chose the number 1,000 and created a front page listing the names and excerpts from obituaries and death notices of people who have lost their lives. The assistant editor said she wanted to “represent the number in a way that conveyed both the vastness and the variety of lives lost” (https://www.nytimes.com/2020/05/23/reader-center/coronavirus-new-york-times-front-page.html). According to local news sources, two teenagers in Durham, North Carolina then took 100 of those printed front pages and posted them to the Free Expression Bridge at Duke University, providing another stark visual of the loss. They “were struck by the power and simplicity of the newspaper front page and wanted to show their community what 100,000 names looks like” (https://www.newsobserver.com/news/local/education/article243002481.html).
When we face something that is difficult to understand, these visual models can help put things in perspective, but when we start to understand what those numbers mean, how can we find room in our heart to honor and remember, especially as the deaths from the pandemic are continuing to mount? I concentrate on the individuals, the names of the individuals on that front page, the people I know who have been ill or died.
On April 24, 2020, I defended my dissertation entitled Performing Disability: An Autoethnography of Persevering and Becoming. In one section discussing disability in the time of a pandemic I had included the following passage:
My mother is in a nursing home, and no visitors are allowed. Even if they were, because of my compromised immune system, it would be impossible for me to visit. I wake up from nightmares that she will die alone. She’s not physically ill at the moment, but I can’t help thinking that our shelter-in-place will last so long that her death will come. She has dementia, and although I want her to know me when we talk on the phone, I almost wish she would lose more of her understanding of what’s happening. The other day the nurse dialed my phone number for her. I told her about my daughters working from home, we talked about the weather, and I explained I couldn’t visit until the virus was gone. I told her to ask the nurse to call me every time she wants to talk. I’m not sure she understood. We said good-bye. As she handed the phone back to the nurse, I heard her start to cry. I heard her say she missed us. I was alone with my dog, walking through the neighborhood, and I couldn’t stop sobbing.
When she first fell ill a few years ago and needed full-time care, I had to clean out her apartment. As I went through things she had saved, I cherished great memories, until I opened the bottom drawer of her dresser. Inside was a fairly new bathing suit. My mother loved going to the beach. Every summer we would take the long drive to Jones Beach in New York, drag the beach chairs, toys, umbrella, and cooler to the water’s edge. After a long day in the sun, swimming in the waves, building sand castles, eating tuna sandwiches, nectarines, and brownies, we would make the long hot sandy ride home. We took vacations to the shore, and we spent days digging for clams at Sherwood Island State Park. As I sat on the floor in my mother’s empty apartment, I cried because I knew she would never feel the sand beneath her feet or smell the ocean’s salt water or float on the undulating waves. My mother is a wonderfully kind and caring person whose love for our family has always been a clear, bright, warm presence in my life. And she was strong; she faced adversity and she kept on going. Now, as my tears fall on the keyboard, I only hope she will keep on going until the pandemic ends, and I can hug her again before she dies.
The next day, April 25th, I received a call from the nursing home; my mother had tested positive for covid-19. My mother is still alive, she’s still in the covid wing of her nursing home, and she still tests positive for the virus. I can’t visit her, hold her hand, or give her a hug. I can schedule a video phone call every couple of days. The aide holds the iPad screen in front of her, and I talk. Her dementia has intensified, so although she recognizes me, she doesn’t understand that she can talk to me. She tells the aide I am her daughter. She asks the aide if I’m at the nursing home. She stares at my image as I tell her about our family. I tell her I love her, and I’ll visit her when the virus is over. Sometimes she says good-bye, and as I hang up the phone, I hope it’s not the last time. For people who have lost someone they love, the only number that counts is the one they lost. There is something profound about reducing 100,000 to 1, yet knowing still that your own 1 is replicated in other stories of other people’s 1. Shared loss doesn’t ease the pain, but it makes you part of a community, even if it’s one you wish did not include you.
Shared loss doesn’t ease the pain, but it makes you part of a community, even if it’s one you wish did not include you.
Author's Note: I originally posted this in the Profound Bartender on April 8, 2018, and then reposted it here at Profound Living on April 25, 2018. I thought it might be a good time to repost it again.
Author's Note: This is a repost of an essay I published in 2018. I thought it was a timely topic to revisit.
“In Celtic wisdom we remember that our soul, the very heart of our being, is sacred. What is deepest in us is of God. ” ~John Philip Newell 1
We may be lights under bushels, but we can shine brightly against the dark even if we are mere candles. Together, the light may shine bright.
Silence speaks to us Listening in deep quiet… Hear what you long for! ~Patricia Leyko Connelly 1
"Elegance is the harmonious integration of simplicity, refinement, and intentionality across diverse contexts, combining timeless beauty with functional sophistication." ~ChatGPT Synthesized Definition
Unmade bed, and mind Unmade mind, unready day Night turns into dawn ~Michael Kroth
When I first discovered Stephen Covey’s book, The Seven Habits Of Highly Effective People 1 , I thought the habits he proposed were so simple. They were so self-evident. When I read them, they were so life changing. I remember reading the book and it was one of the biggest “aha” experiences of my life. As I’ve discovered, they are also so, so hard. I became a facilitator for several of Covey’s courses, and I remember him saying that what he was proposing was both simple and hard. What he meant by that was that the concept of the habit (putting First Things First, for example) was simple, and he offered uncomplicated but effective ways to work on them, but integrating that habit into one’s life, into one’s being, was hard. It would take time and perseverance. And, of course, that’s true. I know it’s true because I still have a long way to go on just these seven habits and that’s decades from when I started, and that’s only seven out of abuncha other practices I’d like to adopt, maintain, or improve on. Changing habits or routines is not impossible by any means, but that doesn’t make it easy no matter how much of an expert one might be. We know that smoking is bad for us, and yet quitting smoking can seem impossibly hard. I used to smoke three packs of cigarettes a day and tried every which way in the world I could to quit, including self-hypnosis, but it took my wife to buy me a smoking cessation program based on aversion therapy (I got a little shock every time I took a puff of smoke) to actually quit. It’s been 45 years since I stopped smoking. But I've known for a long time that eating too much sugar is bad for me, and still I do it. And the scale reminds me of that every day. And still I do it. But I'm working on it. We know that exercise and good nutrition and developing relationships is good for our health over the lifespan, but it takes time and effort to develop them. (For some other thoughts about this, see Whack-A-Mole , Sloughing , The Practice of Practices: The Meta-Practice of Practices ). The good news is that the benefits of working on these practices start accruing from day one, even though getting better at it is a lifetime process. Just because a person knows a good deal about something doesn’t mean that they are skillful at it. Someone who studies generosity isn’t necessarily generous. The worldwide expert in humility isn’t necessarily humble. The medical doctor who rhapsodizes the virtues of exercise isn’t always in the best shape. The theologian who knows more than anyone about some aspect of Christianity or Hinduism or Islam or any religion doesn’t necessarily practice the religious virtues she or he has written about in papers and books. A generous person may know nothing – in fact, probably doesn’t know much – about the latest generosity studies. And the person conducting those studies may be a descendant of Scrooge. Which brings me to the word I came up with for 2024 - elegancing. It’s only fair to ask myself, almost-post-2024, if elegancing has become more of who I am and how I operate in the world. How well, self-reflection should reveal, have I actually practiced it? How deeply have I become an elegant person? Writing a “Prologue” to 2024 Judith Valente asked those of us who took part in her workshop last January, “Prologue to 2024” (see My Word for 2024 – Elegancing ) to write a letter to ourselves about the coming year. I opened that letter on December 21st, and I don’t mind sharing excerpts of what I wrote. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1-15-2024 Prologue to 2024 Michael Kroth To the Divine Ground, to the Great Vastness, and to the Inner LastingNess, May this be a year of Elegancing, of winnowing out the chaff, and keeping – reverencing – the grain. The elegant solution is the simplest, nothing extra, nothing missing. “Take More Time, Cover Less Ground,” a song by Carrie Newcomer, is my theme song. It reminds me of Evelyn Underhill. She would pick one retreat for a year, and give that retreat several times. Rather than giving many retreats. Cultivating Spirituality in Later Life is my topic. This means knowing about gerontology, spirituality, and lifelong learning Healthwise is my approach – not worrying about length of life as much as quality of life for as long as I live. To that end, five areas of continual improvement: exercise, nutrition, sleep, emotional/social health, spiritual growth, financial/material health. To consider myself a learner/practitioner in each of these areas. Designing my environment to move toward elegance with a twist (a bit of irreverence tossed in…). Exercising daily, eat healthily, sleep well, become a better (husband, father, friend, and neighbor) person, deepen my spiritual growth, and healthy personal financial management. All these by exercising and strengthening values and virtues and behavior that carry out the Great Commandments (love God and Neighbor). To find and practice the unifying themes between all of these areas of life, (Occam’s Razor, the elegant solutions) such that life becomes increasing and simultaneously simpler and more profound. All this to continually immerse myself in an environment and life of flourishing. Michael Kroth, Student of Life ------------------------------------------------------------------------- That’s what I wrote, and as I sit here on December 30 th 2024 these still are values and approaches that I want to continue to build into myself and my life through 2025 and beyond. I like what I wrote then – it fits where I am and where I want to go. But, have I made much progress? But, have I made much progress? What have I learned about elegancing and myself this past year? Looking back over the year I’ve done pretty well on some of these and on some have I have not. One area in which I have not made much progress is in personal financial management. I've made little steps, but it does not come naturally for me. I just don't think about money much, and not nearly so much as I ought to. I'll have to do better in 2025 as retirement hurdles forward me. Regarding the big four metapractices 2 – spiritual learning, embodied learning, cognitive learning, and socio-emotional learning – elegancing underlies them all. That is, I’m working to go more deeply, more synergistically, and in a less scattered way with each of them, and all of them interacting with each other. Carrie Newcomer’s words, Take More Time, Cover Less Ground 3 , is what Duhigg calls a “keystone habit,” and applies to all of these. “Some habits,” Duhigg says, “matter more than others in remaking businesses and lives.” 4 Focusing more, and what is likely to make the most difference, seems like a good strategy. It is probably self-evident, but my curiosity is a strength and a vulnerability. As one who is interested in learning about many things, it is easy to jump from one fascinating topic to another. To wit, over the last few weeks, I’ve started to learn how to use AI. And it is helping me to learn conversational Spanish. Those are two big topics themselves. Oh, and I’ve backslud a bit on practicing Tai Chi, but it remains on the top of my list. And I want to know more about Spain. Oh, and I’m going to sign up for the Osher Institute this next month. Oh, and I can’t forget…. And yeah, I’m going to Judith’s 2025 retreat on January 11 th , Writing the Prologue to Your New Year . I haven’t come a long way, baby, but I’ve come a ways. And I’m thinking 2025 might be pretty wonderful, even with all its inevitable ups and downs. Focus on the present moment, MK, focus not just on be-coming, but at the same time be-ing. (And let's not forget do-ing...) So, to answer my own question, I've made a little progress, enough to make me feel excited about continuing. Even if my practice of elegance has a long way to go, I know a lot more about elegancing than I did a year ago. I’ve been keeping track of articles about elegance over the last year (I used a Google alert, and am beginning to go deeper with Google Scholar) to learn more about it. More than a fashion choice, elegance applies to advanced technology, design (of all sorts), sports, science, software, and beyond. That’s knowledge, which is good. Practicing until one becomes, until one is be-ing elegant, that’s better. These practices start with the smallest, often the most tenuous, of steps. I feel like 2024 has been a time of taking my first steps toward elegancifying the way I approach the world. Elegancifying . I like it. Maybe that will be my word for 2025. How about you? What will your word be for 2025? Your song? Your desired experience? This elegancing thing might take me a while. Like maybe the rest of my life. Sources and Resources 1 Covey, S. R. (1989). The seven habits of highly effective people: restoring the character ethic. Simon and Schuster. 2 For a more in-depth look at the processes of lifelong formation, see Kroth, M., Carr‐Chellman, D. J., & Rogers‐Shaw, C. (2022). Formation as an organizing framework for the processes of lifelong learning. New Horizons in Adult Education and Human Resource Development , 34(1), 26-36. 3 Carrie Newcomer, Take More Time, Cover Less Ground. https://carrienewcomer.substack.com/p/take-more-time-cover-less-ground-10e 4 Duhigg, C. (2014). Power of habit: why we do what we do in life and business (Random House Trade Paperback Edition ed.), p. 100. 5 Carrie Newcomer, You Can Do this Hard Thing. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PRGnftH_g4I Retreat Information To sign up for Judith’s January 11 th retreat, check it out here: Writing the Prologue to Your New Year
