Every day in my travels around this country (both in person or online) people ask one question:
“How do you stay hopeful right now; how do you keep going when there is so much to grieve over, so much cruelty in front of you, when there is such daily violence to contend with?”
I often tell them I stay hopeful for Anne Frank.
The Jewish teenager wrote these words in the early 1940s, while confined within the cramped upper rooms above an Amsterdam business, that became the entire world for three years of her far too brief life while her family hid from the Nazis:
It’s really a wonder that I haven’t dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.
Every time I read or I think of those words, I remember why I stay hopeful right now.
I stay hopeful because she stayed hopeful. Despite every reason to abandon the will to continue or the optimism to sustain her, she refused to. The beautiful defiance of her young heart revealed in those words is reason enough to keep going.
I stay hopeful because hopeless is not an option. Hopelessness is defeat and resignation; it is a willing surrender to darkness that insults the memory of so many who have courageously made this planet their home long before we ever showed up here.
I stay hopeful because people of every nationality, religious affiliation, and life circumstance who have preceded us, have experienced all manner of hell during their lifetimes: unspeakable suffering and unthinkable fear—and would not relent. They faced genocide and slavery and war; endured murderous regimes and malignant dictators and corrupt governments and yet chose to persevere. They made the daily, sometimes hourly decision to speak and live and create and work and resist and love when it proved difficult. We need to do that now.
We who inhabit this planet in these days have inherited it from them: the children, activists, caregivers, soldiers, helpers, and parents—the ordinary people who would not allow themselves to become so despondent or so weary in their present circumstance that they stopped giving a damn or making a life or bending the arc of the moral universe toward justice in any way they were able.
Now it’s our turn. This is our moment to spend our fragile and fleeting sliver of space and time here, and for the sake of our predecessors in humanity and for our descendants who will be here after we’re gone—we can’t blow it.
We can’t allow our present troubles to overcome us. We cannot be overwhelmed by the pain in our path, to the point where we are no longer willing to feel it or respond to it. We can’t wilt in the face of hateful, fearful people who would make the world less diverse and less equitable. We can’t become apathetic or stay silent or sidestep the turbulence of engaging the ugliness outside or doors or on our social media feeds—because the multitudes whose feet traversed this place previously, refused to.
So stay hopeful: for Anne Frank, for Rosa Parks, for Mahatma Gandhi, for the Suffragettes, for the Little Rock Nine, For Harvey Milk, For Malala Yousafzai, for Syrian refugees, for the Parkland Students, for Greta Thunberg.
For them, for the other recorded heroes of our shared story, and for the billions of human beings whose names and faces and stories you’ll never know, who refused to lose hope even as all hell broke loose around them, and allowed you to inherit a world worth saving.
Anne Frank believed that people are really good at heart. Nearly 70 years later, you get to prove her right. You get to be the good people. You get to hold on to your ideals and you get to carry them out even in days when it feels and seems impossible.
Stay hopeful because you have breath in your lungs and a working heart planted firmly in your chest, and you have this day in which you can speak and live and create and work and resist and love.
“Amazing Grace. I’ve always struggled with the message of this time of year. A celebration of peace and love by remembering someone’s suffering. I’ve always found that hard to stomach.
This year, it feels like the suffering in the world is so apparent and relenting. It’s made me rethink the message of Easter. Perhaps there’s no use in trying to forget and turn away from the suffering. Perhaps we should never forget but allow it to stop us in our tracks and think. There’s so much to think about it can feel overwhelming.
I hope that, this Easter, whatever is going on with you and whatever difficulties your face, that you know that you’re not alone and that there are people around you who love you. This is my little message this Eastertime. Someone once said these words to me and they made all the difference. I hope they do the same for you.
From the west of Ireland, wishing you and those around you the warmest regards and enduring love this Eastertime.
“It’s tempting to view gratitude only through the filter of what is pleasant, as if only comfort and ease are worth being thankful for.
Today, here are a few surprising places you might look for unexpected abundance.
Give thanks for grief.
It is the necessary tax on loving people and being loved by them. The magnitude of our mourning is proportionate to the depth of connection we had with someone who is gone. The tears that come are a tribute. Even as you grieve the present absence of someone you loved, be grateful for their past presence. It is a blessing to have had someone worth losing and missing.
Give thanks for pain.
Suffering is a reminder that your heart, though badly broken, is still working. Your capacity to be wounded is a sign that you care deeply and as treacherous as this life can be this is no small feat. There is something cathartic about despair and the tears it brings, the way it cleans house of all that is unimportant, so feel it all and be grateful that you are fully alive.
Give thanks for adversity.
They say that the roots of a tree grow deeper in the winter, when provision is not as plentiful; that its stability actually grows with this deeper reaching into the ground. There are lessons we learn when we go through difficulty that we could never learn any other way, riches that only come in the scalding crucible of hardship. Even in the struggle of these moments, you are being renovated so be grateful.
Give thanks for changed plans.
Humility comes when we are surprised by life, when the path we thought we would be walking turns out not to be the one we’re on. Though this comes with bitterness, fear, and uncertainty, see your unexpected road as a reminder of your smallness and vulnerability, a chance to jettison some of the arrogance and self-reliance that you’ve carried around.
Give thanks for regret.
So you blew it. Welcome to the club. Whatever bad decision you’ve made or however you feel like you failed or dropped the ball, take heart because your story’s not over. Now you get to go forward; to be wiser, kinder, more grateful. You get to course-correct in this day, to craft something redemptive out of the glorious mess you’ve made. Don’t linger in regret, just let it move you.
Give thanks for difficult decisions.
If you have a tough choice to make right now, celebrate this. You have something many people don’t have: you have options. As stressful and as fraught with anxiety as these days may be, they come with the promise that something new is coming. Weigh carefully, choose with as much wisdom as you can, and be grateful for the promise of possibility.
Give thanks for loneliness.
Times of solitude can seem especially cruel when it seems like others are celebrating connection and community but they are also an incredible gift. When we are alone, we learn to mine strength that we didn’t realize we had, we discover gifts that we may never have unearthed, and we find a new peace with the person we see in the mirror. Let solitude teach you all it can right now.
Give thanks for outrage.
The holy discontent in your spirit at the injustice around you is a gift. It is your soul’s alarm at what seems so not right about the world; the belief that there is better and more loving and more healing work to be done and that you are fully equipped to do it. Let your anger remind you that good people still walk the planet—and that you are one of them.
Friend, these days may be filled with a whole lot that seems unworthy of gratitude, but try anyway.
Yes, this current pain might be overwhelming but it is also the stinking manure out of which beautiful things will grow, so keep going.
For all you see and feel and experience today (even the stuff that seems and even isquite terrible), give thanks.
What terrible things have you found gratitude for? Let me know in the comments.“
Give thanks for changed plans.
Humility comes when we are surprised by life, when the path we thought we would be walking turns out not to be the one we’re on. Though this comes with bitterness, fear, and uncertainty, see your unexpected road as a reminder of your smallness and vulnerability, a chance to jettison some of the arrogance and self-reliance that you’ve carried around.
Give thanks for regret.
So you blew it. Welcome to the club. Whatever bad decision you’ve made or however you feel like you failed or dropped the ball, take heart because your story’s not over. Now you get to go forward; to be wiser, kinder, more grateful. You get to course-correct in this day, to craft something redemptive out of the glorious mess you’ve made. Don’t linger in regret, just let it move you.
Give thanks for difficult decisions.
If you have a tough choice to make right now, celebrate this. You have something many people don’t have: you have options. As stressful and as fraught with anxiety as these days may be, they come with the promise that something new is coming. Weigh carefully, choose with as much wisdom as you can, and be grateful for the promise of possibility.
Give thanks for loneliness.
Times of solitude can seem especially cruel when it seems like others are celebrating connection and community but they are also an incredible gift. When we are alone, we learn to mine strength that we didn’t realize we had, we discover gifts that we may never have unearthed, and we find a new peace with the person we see in the mirror. Let solitude teach you all it can right now.
Give thanks for outrage.
The holy discontent in your spirit at the injustice around you is a gift. It is your soul’s alarm at what seems so not right about the world; the belief that there is better and more loving and more healing work to be done and that you are fully equipped to do it. Let your anger remind you that good people still walk the planet—and that you are one of them.
Friend, these days may be filled with a whole lot that seems unworthy of gratitude, but try anyway.
Yes, this current pain might be overwhelming but it is also the stinking manure out of which beautiful things will grow, so keep going.
For all you see and feel and experience today (even the stuff that seems and even isquite terrible), give thanks.
What terrible things have you found gratitude for? Let me know in the comments.
Give thanks for changed plans.
Humility comes when we are surprised by life, when the path we thought we would be walking turns out not to be the one we’re on. Though this comes with bitterness, fear, and uncertainty, see your unexpected road as a reminder of your smallness and vulnerability, a chance to jettison some of the arrogance and self-reliance that you’ve carried around.
Give thanks for regret.
So you blew it. Welcome to the club. Whatever bad decision you’ve made or however you feel like you failed or dropped the ball, take heart because your story’s not over. Now you get to go forward; to be wiser, kinder, more grateful. You get to course-correct in this day, to craft something redemptive out of the glorious mess you’ve made. Don’t linger in regret, just let it move you.
Give thanks for difficult decisions.
If you have a tough choice to make right now, celebrate this. You have something many people don’t have: you have options. As stressful and as fraught with anxiety as these days may be, they come with the promise that something new is coming. Weigh carefully, choose with as much wisdom as you can, and be grateful for the promise of possibility.
Give thanks for loneliness.
Times of solitude can seem especially cruel when it seems like others are celebrating connection and community but they are also an incredible gift. When we are alone, we learn to mine strength that we didn’t realize we had, we discover gifts that we may never have unearthed, and we find a new peace with the person we see in the mirror. Let solitude teach you all it can right now.
Give thanks for outrage.
The holy discontent in your spirit at the injustice around you is a gift. It is your soul’s alarm at what seems so not right about the world; the belief that there is better and more loving and more healing work to be done and that you are fully equipped to do it. Let your anger remind you that good people still walk the planet—and that you are one of them.
Friend, these days may be filled with a whole lot that seems unworthy of gratitude, but try anyway.
Yes, this current pain might be overwhelming but it is also the stinking manure out of which beautiful things will grow, so keep going.
For all you see and feel and experience today (even the stuff that seems and even isquite terrible), give thanks.
What terrible things have you found gratitude for? Let me know in the comments.“
I was having a conversation with my coworker on Monday, as we felt as though we had weighted blanket’s over our heads, while an anonymous person added weight by laying over us.
World conflict has the power to take hold of our hearts, squeeze tightly, until you find yourself bending over, as you gasp for breathe.
Remembering to take time to go through your thoughts and feelings, may be helpful this week. Make a plan as to how you can help. And remember your help will probably look different than others, and that’s ok. I am reminding myself to hold friends and families in prayer, and get involved to make a difference in the small way I am able to.
6/7/2000 — Couldn’t walk at all, after the stroke (I was 33 years old)
9/3/2000 — With a brace on my right leg, I could finally walk.
9/4/2023 — Yes, FINALLY Maureen is walking with out her brace!
I messaged my brace man. He said,
“Knee contra looks good. Not hyperextended.”
Whoohoo!
Note: No, I can’t walk full with out my brace. I think I need a new HALF brace. (Yes I can walk with out my brace, but it’s still too weak to go outside.)
My friend Steve said, “Makes sense – from full brace to no brace is a lot to ask of your muscles. Still a huge step!”
“At a time when there are those who seek to ban books and bury history, I’ll be clear: Darkness and denialism can hide much, but they erase nothing. We should learn everything: the good, bad, and truth of who we are. That’s what great nations do, and we are a great nation.”
— President Biden
President Biden Signs Proclamation to Establish Emmett Till & Mamie Till-Mobley National Monument
“On August 28, 1955, while visiting family in Money, Mississippi, 14-year-old Emmett Till, an African American from Chicago, is brutally murdered for allegedly flirting with a white woman four days earlier.
His assailants—the white woman’s husband and his brother—made Emmett carry a 75-pound cotton gin fan to the bank of the Tallahatchie River and ordered him to take off his clothes. The two men then beat him nearly to death, gouged out his eye, shot him in the head and then threw his body, tied to the cotton gin fan with barbed wire, into the river.
Who Was Emmett Till?
Till grew up in a working-class neighborhood on the south side of Chicago, and though he had attended a segregated elementary school, he was not prepared for the level of segregation he encountered in Mississippi. His mother warned him to take care because of his race, but Emmett enjoyed pulling pranks.
On August 24, while standing with his cousins and some friends outside a country store in Money, Emmett bragged that his girlfriend back home was white. Emmett’s African American companions, disbelieving him, dared Emmett to ask the white woman sitting behind the store counter for a date.
He went in, bought some candy, and on the way out was heard saying, “Bye, baby” to the woman. There were no witnesses in the store, but Carolyn Bryant—the woman behind the counter—later claimed that he grabbed her, made lewd advances and wolf-whistled at her as he sauntered out.
Emmett Till Murder
Roy Bryant, the proprietor of the store and the woman’s husband, returned from a business trip a few days later and heard how Emmett had allegedly spoken to his wife. Enraged, he went to the home of Till’s great uncle, Mose Wright, with his half-brother J.W. Milam in the early morning hours of August 28.
The pair demanded to see the boy. Despite pleas from Wright, they forced Emmett into their car. After driving around in the night, and perhaps beating Till in a toolhouse behind Milam’s residence, they drove him down to the Tallahatchie River.
Three days later, his corpse was recovered but was so disfigured that Mose Wright could only identify it by an initialed ring. Authorities wanted to bury the body quickly, but Till’s mother, Mamie Bradley, requested it be sent back to Chicago.
Open-Casket Funeral
After seeing the mutilated remains, she decided to have an open-casket funeral so that all the world could see what racist murderers had done to her only son. Jet, an African American weekly magazine, published a photo of Emmett’s corpse, and soon the mainstream media picked up on the story.
Less than two weeks after Emmett’s body was buried, Milam and Bryant went on trial in a segregated courthouse in Sumner, Mississippi. There were few witnesses besides Mose Wright, who positively identified the defendants as Emmett’s killers.
On September 23, the all-white jury deliberated for less than an hour before issuing a verdict of “not guilty,” explaining that they believed the state had failed to prove the identity of the body. Many people around the country were outraged by the decision and also by the state’s decision not to indict Milam and Bryant on the separate charge of kidnapping.
In 2017, Tim Tyson, author of the book The Blood of Emmett Till, revealed that Carolyn Bryant (later known as Carolyn Bryant Donham) recanted her testimony, admitting that Till had never touched, threatened or harassed her. “Nothing that boy did could ever justify what happened to him,” she said. In 2022, a grand jury in Mississippi declined to indict Bryant for her role in the crime nearly 70 years earlier. Bryant died in 2023.
In March of 2022, President Joe Biden signed the Emmett Till Antilynching Actinto law, making lynching a federal hate crime.”
“I wrote a letter thanking librarians across the country for everything they’re doing to protect our freedom to read.
“To the dedicated and hardworking librarians of America:
In any democracy, the free exchange of ideas is an important part of making sure that citizens are informed, engaged and feel like their perspectives matter.
It’s so important, in fact, that here in America, the First Amendment of our Constitution states that freedom begins with our capacity to share and access ideas — even, and maybe especially, the ones we disagree with.
More often than not, someone decides to write those ideas down in a book.
Books have always shaped how I experience the world. Writers like Mark Twain and Toni Morrison, Walt Whitman and James Baldwin taught me something essential about our country’s character. Reading about people whose lives were very different from mine showed me how to step into someone else’s shoes. And the simple act of writing helped me develop my own identity — all of which would prove vital as a citizen, as a community organizer, and as president.
Today, some of the books that shaped my life — and the lives of so many others — are being challenged by people who disagree with certain ideas or perspectives. It’s no coincidence that these “banned books” are often written by or feature people of color, indigenous people, and members of the LGBTQ+ community — though there have also been unfortunate instances in which books by conservative authors or books containing “triggering” words or scenes have been targets for removal. Either way, the impulse seems to be to silence, rather than engage, rebut, learn from or seek to understand views that don’t fit our own.
I believe such an approach is profoundly misguided, and contrary to what has made this country great. As I’ve said before, not only is it important for young people from all walks of life to see themselves represented in the pages of books, but it’s also important for all of us to engage with different ideas and points of view.
It’s also important to understand that the world is watching. If America — a nation built on freedom of expression — allows certain voices and ideas to be silenced, why should other countries go out of their way to protect them? Ironically, it is Christian and other religious texts — the sacred texts that some calling for book bannings in this country claim to want to defend — that have often been the first target of censorship and book banning efforts in authoritarian countries.
Nobody understands that more than you, our nation’s librarians. In a very real sense, you’re on the front lines — fighting every day to make the widest possible range of viewpoints, opinions, and ideas available to everyone. Your dedication and professional expertise allow us to freely read and consider information and ideas, and decide for ourselves which ones we agree with.
That’s why I want to take a moment to thank all of you for the work you do every day — work that is helping us understand each other and embrace our shared humanity.
And it’s not just about books. You also provide spaces where people can come together, share ideas, participate in community programs, and access essential civic and educational resources. Together, you help people become informed and active citizens, capable of making this country what they want it to be.
And you do it all in a harsh political climate where, all too often, you’re attacked by people who either cannot or will not understand the vital — and uniquely American — role you play in the life of our nation.
So whether you just started working at a school or public library, or you’ve been there your entire career, Michelle and I want to thank you for your unwavering commitment to the freedom to read. All of us owe you a debt of gratitude for making sure readers across the country have access to a wide range of books, and all the ideas they contain.
Finally, to every citizen reading this, I hope you’ll join me in reminding anyone who will listen — and even some people you think might not — that the free, robust exchange of ideas has always been at the heart of American democracy. Together, we can make that true for generations to come.
Is it almost Christmas? No, but you can read the book any time (including now!)
😉
(Review by David Butler):
“While reading the touching story of Sue and Sally, I was amazed to see several words that you were to use 20 years later in a variety of Nissan ads. Words such as: the, and, hot, outside and big. Yes, Maureen, big things were in store for you, even then.”
Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on January 21, 2022
“I found Sally Cronin’s Life Is Like a Bowl of Cherries: Sometimes Bitter, Sometimes Sweet (short stories and a sprinkling of poetry) to be a real pleasure to read–not a guilty pleasure but a pleasure to be celebrated and shared with other readers.
I particularly enjoyed how varied the collection is. From the opening story of an Artificial Intelligence nightmare in the grocery store to the closing story of a chance at love for a middle-aged woman always the florist, never the bride, I did not know what to expect next. Several of the stories include paranormal visitations. Cronin handles these visitations in a way that was entirely believable to me and, ultimately, comforting.
The primary themes of the stories are fate, love, loss, and kindness–and when kindness is egregiously lacking, revenge. The sprinkling of poetry focuses on love, family connections, and observations of animals. The standout poem for me was “The Visitor,” about “a ringed pigeon / weary and confused / blown off course by high winds.” How many of us have been there?
The collection even includes a haibun, “The Long Drop,” which takes a situation familiar to those of us who follow true crime shows–but in a brilliant twist adds a haiku. The combination of the microfiction and the haiku made my blood run cold.
The best way I can describe my experience of reading Life Is Like a Bowl of Cherries is that reading each story was like sitting down for a brief respite from the day’s troubles with a really good cup of coffee. When the story was finished, I could go on with my day refreshed–or indulge myself with another story.”
…
Maureen Twomey: Hey! I was going to say the same thing! 😉
Well done Sally Cronin! 🙂
About the Author, Sally Cronin
Sally Cronin is the author of sixteen books including her memoir Size Matters: Especially when you weigh 330lb first published in 2001. This has been followed by another fifteen books both fiction and non-fiction including multi-genre collections of short stories and poetry.
As an author she understands how important it is to have support in marketing books and offers a number of FREE promotional opportunities on her blog and across her social media. The Smorgasbord Bookshelf
Her podcast shares book reviews, poetry and short stories Sally Cronin Soundcloud
After leading a nomadic existence exploring the world, she now lives with her husband on the coast of Southern Ireland enjoying the seasonal fluctuations in the temperature of the rain.
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Maureen Twomey 