It's just a moment in the snow

The Boston Herald

Boston Herald

BEVERLY BECKHAM

Mid-winter. Halfway between here and there. Waiting for the snow to fall. Waiting for the snow to disappear. These are strange days. You find things in your refrigerator, cranberry sauce, a few pieces of ham, left over from Christmas. The poinsettias remain in bloom. Christmas wreaths still bedeck more than a few doors. In corners, and under the carpet, stray pine needles hide.

They're props from a play that closed weeks ago. It was a good play, but that was then and this is now. Now it's time to get serious, time for resolutions, for getting focused. Last year is over. A new year has begun.

And yet this isn't really true because there is no start or end to a year. A year is an invention, the calendar a contrivance of man, profitable for timekeepers and people who sell tickets to New Year's events. Songwriter Harry Chapin's the one who got it right: all of life's a circle, he sang, and all we do is go 'round and 'round.

We're supposed to learn something from the going because what's the point if we don't? We're supposed to grow, not just a year older, but wiser, kinder, more understanding of ourselves and of other people, more of who we're meant to be, than the last time we found ourselves standing here on this square marked Jan. 16.

And what have we learned in a year, I wonder?

While Saddam Hussein is playing a deadly game of "Catch Me if You Can," we're talking and writing about Hillary Clinton's thighs. While Asian currencies sink and people who a few months ago had money to spare are lining up for food, we're focused on Paula Jones.

The Wampanoags are still clamoring for gaming rights, officials are still talking about what to do with the Boston Harbor Islands and the old Boston State Hospital grounds. Too many city kids are still coming up short in the education department. The poor are still poor and the poorest of the poor still dial 911 when they're sick because they can't afford a cab to get to a health clinic.

Property values are skyrocketing in Southie, but it's the same old news and old wars in the projects. And the great American "crises" remain the same - what to do with the children while mom works and what to do with mom when she can no longer work.

And on it goes. If we say we feel we're going around in circles, it's because we are. We've been here before. And before. And before.

A question often asked by politicians seeking votes is, "Are we better off now than we were a year ago?" And the answer is always given in dollars and cents, as if money were the bottom line.

So if money isn't, what is?

There was a picture of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu tucked in the papers this week. Snow fell in Jerusalem for the first time in many years and the city took a holiday and adults took their children outdoors to introduce them to the white stuff.

There was Netanyahu with his wife and daughter in front of their home and there was another picture of a rabbi and another of an Arab and they were all smiling and it was as if the snow had worked some magic and brought these old enemies together.

Which is exactly what it did. Not for long, but for a while.

It was just a moment. But isn't that what life is, a series of moments? The snow was a novelty, so unexpected that serious, preoccupied people set in their ways and beliefs stopped and paid attention to it. They stepped out of their roles and their offices and became children for a while. And they were awed by what they saw.

With our noses to the grindstone and our ears hearing the same old things, we are seldom awed or surprised or even very glad. Our circles have become ruts and that's not what they're supposed to be. They're supposed to widen. They're supposed to touch.