Looking for the Silver Lining

I’m usually a silver lining kind of person. The first movie I ever saw was “Till The Clouds Roll By,” and I remember the thrill when Judy Garland sang “Look for The Silver Lining.” I have watched that movie at least a dozen times, and I still tear up when my screen idol sings, “…so always look for the silver lining and try to find the sunny side of life.”

The silver lining in our grown-up world has become deeply tarnished, and it’s hard to be convinced that “somewhere the sun is shining” when the “sadness and strife” of the song covers the treasures of our democracy behind dark clouds. Is this pervasive state of disbelief, uncertainty and fear our new reality?

I’m well-schooled in the ideas and practices of disagreeing agreeably, engaging in civil discourse across political and ideological divides, reaching across the aisle and seeking common ground. But I, too, often find myself reaching my limits, especially when it comes to speech and actions that pollute the foundations of our democratic system.

It seems as though I’m not the only one looking for a silver lining. Every day the imperative for consensus and compromise seems to battle against the instinct to dig in our heels and hold our ground.

Realizing how long ago I took to heart the words of that song in “Till The Clouds Roll By” with the same trust and naivete as my first screen idol, I now recognize that there can be a silver lining — but it isn’t going to reappear until we all do the hard work of restoring the shine to our tarnished political and societal norms. If we are to preserve and perpetuate what is precious to us — those immutable values that we deem unnegotiable — we have to back up our convictions with support, engagement and concrete action.

We can’t justify standing by helplessly and retreating into our cocoons of personal comforts.There are actually things we can do to bridge the partisan divide: Become fully informed. Read and listen. Watch and learn. Have the courage and willingness to not just waft in the warm comfort of voices that please us and support our leanings but also expose ourselves to voices that discomfort us and make us reevaluate our long-held ideas and understandings. By doing so, even when we don’t agree with dissenting voices, we might better understand the underpinnings of their dissent and expand our capacity for sitting under the same tent. Empathy with the other is the beginning of coming together.

Empathy with the other is the beginning of coming together.

We can get involved in concrete ways. Just as we create plans for most things we want to accomplish, we can create plans to support causes and issues that we care about. With planned intentionality, we can avoid responding impulsively to emotional tugs at our heartstrings, which we finally satisfy with one desperate “click” at the very last hour.

And if we are committed to dialogue and empathy, we can make efforts to ensure that everyone’s voice is heard in our civic realm, too. We must protect voters’ rights and fight voter suppression, volunteering outside of our own neighborhoods to walk precincts to encourage voters to complete and submit their ballots. We can refocus on local governments, learning the issues and supporting the candidates who will work in the best interests of the community they seek to represent. We can add our names to petitions. We can volunteer on phone banks. By broadening our circles of engagement, we create reciprocity of communication rather than creating ever-higher walls that permanently seal the partisanship that divides us.

One thing we all have learned this year is that when people demand attention, they get it. When they demand to be noticed, they are seen. When they demand to be listened to, they are heard. Sometimes this brings us together, and sometimes it separates us, but the clarion call for attention requires us to abandon complacency. Only in a state of attention do we sharpen our vision and activate our senses. Only in a state of attention are we prompted to act. We can’t allow the fabric that binds us together to rip apart at the seams. Sustaining effort may be tedious, but neither relying on hope nor succumbing to despair are viable options.

Judy Garland’s singing “remember somewhere, the sun is shining, so the right thing to do is make it shine for you” wasn’t so naïve after all. While reassuring herself, she firmly decided not just to sit there and hope and wait but to get up and make it happen. She didn’t promise immediacy. She just initiated the act.

The “sunny side of life” can seem very far away these days. We have a lot more to do than “look for the silver lining.” We have to scrub away the

accumulated layers of tarnish on our national ideals and aspirations. Count me among those who pledge to stand up, initiate the act and do my best to make it happen.

Rochelle Ginsburg, educator, facilitates book group discussions for adult readers.