This Very Good Time
Photo by Alex Block on Unsplash
“This time, like all times, is a very good one, if we but know what to do with it.”
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
For years now I’ve puzzled over this quote taped to the inside of my spice cupboard, alongside other inspirations. I’ve always liked it, but now it’s starting to make sense too. It’s a call to action of course, but one that demands thoughtful, precise response — nothing sloppy. In the last few weeks, humans young and old, from all walks, here and abroad, have shown me that they know what to do with this time. It’s heartening.
Another saying that isn’t attached to the inside of my cupboard, but taped in my brain instead is this: “Children don’t listen to what you say, they watch what you do.” This holds true for the two male adolescents in my care. With these two mottos in mind, I keep going back to one powerful memory — a choice my mother made — more than fifty years ago. As it turns out, that was also a very good time.
New Orleans, circa 1969
I did not eat a single grape for what felt like my entire childhood but actually, I was only deprived of my favorite fruit for the first few years of my privileged life. The Delano Grape Boycott started the year I was born, in 1965, and ended victorious in 1970, when the growers agreed to union contracts that gave workers better wages and working conditions. I missed grapes badly. Mom would roll our cart straight past the plump green globules in the produce aisle of Schwegmann’s. She’d explain that by not buying grapes we were helping Mr. Chavez and the migrant farm workers who picked those grapes, way across the country in California. This made zero sense to me. My appreciation for the purchasing power of money was limited to my understanding that, with the right combination of coins from my change purse, I could purchase a large cola ICEE from the corner store. It was impossible for me to understand how reallocating the family budget from table grapes to bananas could possibly help. Yet my small sacrifice, added to that of countless others around the world, brought those vineyard bosses to the bargaining table: grape pickers were finally allowed to take water breaks and collect unemployment insurance.
The concepts of conscience, sacrifice and solidarity were modeled for me at a tender age, by a women’s libber in oversized sunglasses and head scarves, who went for peaches and pears over grapes. These three ideas stuck in my scalp at age five, much better than the plastic barrettes forever sliding off my baby-fine hair. Conscience, sacrifice and solidarity. I remember these three right now, at this very good time.