Tag Archives: COVID-19

Hopes and Dreams

Photo by Alex Nemo Hanse on Unsplash

One of our family’s coping mechanisms during this pandemic has been our regular ritual of determining each family member’s hope and dream for the weekend. We each choose one thing to add to our often-lengthy chore and to-do list and, then, as a family, we do our best to make that hope and dream come true. These hopes and dreams are simple, but powerful. Things like get donuts, watch a favorite movie, go for a long run, or try a new family board game. 

A couple months ago on Mother’s Day, my wife’s hope and dream was to watch Michelle Obama’s Netflix special Becoming. I had read Michelle’s memoir of the same title last year and loved learning the story behind the half of the Obamas that isn’t as often in the news. Michelle is impressive in her own right and her memoir told the story of how she made her way from the rapidly changing South Side of Chicago to the pinnacle of power and privilege. 

The Netflix special, though, added some additional color to the memoir by sharing vignettes from her book tour. It showed some of the behind-the-scenes interactions with her team, the funny bon mots she shared with her interviewers at public events, and the touching moments with students and young people at private events. 

It was in one of these private events where a young woman asked why she was invited to participate in this small group conversation with the former First Lady, implying that her background and experience were unworthy of such an opportunity. Michelle wasn’t having it. She told the young woman that she deserved to be there and she just needed to accept the story of who she was and build on that. 

This was a powerful moment in its own right, but it crystallized something important for me. We all want to understand our history, tell our stories, and then write the next chapter. That is an innate human need, but it’s hard. Our personal histories have some great things and also things that we want to forget. Our present lives can be hard to accept sometimes because of the busyness of our day-to-day lives, impostors syndrome, or other barriers. And we all want to write that next chapter, but we are scared of failing. 

There is nothing special about these challenges. Everyone faces them. Seeing Michelle wrestle with similar challenges in her life and then seeing the young adults that she engaged with also wrestle with them crystallized this common human condition for me. I’ve been circling it for a while, but never quite getting there. Getting close, but never close enough. I realized that my goal, my mission is to help people understand and accept their stories and then help them write the next chapter for themselves. To reinforce those superpowers that are hard to acknowledge and to be that Michelle Obama in your corner when needed.

Like that girl, this path was before me and I just wouldn’t accept it.  But if you look at some of the people that influenced me, it only makes sense. 

Nilofer Merchant’s work on Onlyness…

Brene Brown’s various works that have focused on vulnerability…

Liz Gilbert’s deep dive into creativity in Big Magic

Sanyin Siang’s exploration of how to launch and acknowledge your superpowers…

And many more.

They are all about finding and accepting your story and then sharing it with the world. You have to listen to your own story and believe it. 

As I’ve gone about the long and winding process to understand my own history, tell my story, and write the next chapter, I’ve learned that my strengths of learning, relating to others, understanding others’s strengths, connecting dots between people and concepts, and turning ideas into action are best applied in helping others take that same journey. 

Is that executive coaching or career coaching? Maybe a little of both, Regardless, I’ve already seen the impact in some of my clients in the ability to know their history, tell their story, and write their next chapter. It is so satisfying to me to see the proverbial lightbulb turn on and these clients make this change.

But there’s more that I’m excited about. Beyond the fact that this is good for individuals and their own utility, it’s also transformative especially for leaders. Why? Because the best leaders are the ones that know themselves the best. Leaders are praised and rewarded for their clear visions of where they want to go, but many have failed in knowing where they came from and taking careful stock of what currently is. 

But those who know not only where they have been but where they are going are better situated to be leaders. Those who have done this foundational work are confident of who they are and where they came from so they are more humble and empathic as leaders. And you can’t get where you want to go or even define where you want to go in the first place without knowing where you came from. 

Similar to my family’s weekly ritual or Michelle Obama’s encouragement of the young woman, helping my clients uncover these recognitions in pursuit of happiness and positive impact is my hope and dream. Let’s go!

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Upending the Status Quo

MLK Birmingham Jail.jpegPhoto credit: L. Cunningham, US Air Force

As someone whose mission is bringing about positive change in communities around transportation and mobility, I think a lot about the status quo. In mobility, the status quo is the exorbitant funding for roads compared to public transit. It’s the loss of vulnerable lives walking and riding bikes for the convenience of speeding autos. And it’s the systematic prioritization of white neighborhoods at the expense of communities of color. 

The COVID-19 pandemic has dramatically shifted our communities in a very short time. The challenges are immense and already well-documented. Though North Carolina has been spared some of the worst of the pandemic so far, we recognize and honor those challenges. They are real and they hurt. 

And yet, we have to acknowledge this pandemic has inspired some positive outcomes. Some of the positive changes are public: 

Traffic went poof.

Water is clear.

Air is cleaner than ever.

Car crashes are down significantly.

And some of the changes are more personal in nature: 

Families are rediscovering game nights

Outdoor exercise is flourishing

Happy hours are being reinvented on Zoom.

When we have this experience to look back on, these positive changes will recalibrate some of those “the way things always have been” conversations. It is already putting into stark relief some of the things that we accepted as inherent to the status quo just may not be.  

For instance, many working parents and disability advocates are finding out that work from home limitations were not technical in nature, but a lack of imagination at best and discrimination at worst. Some cities are finding that sidewalks that aren’t wide enough for proper social distancing require more aggressive measures by taking away roadspace. And Spain is planning a Universal Basic Income to ensure that everyone can pay their bills, even when the pandemic runs its course.

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Still, while some aspects of the status quo are changing, more troubling parts of the status quo–especially around issues of equity–still remain.  

  • Areas of the country, especially communities of color, already dealing with a lack of healthcare investment are now some of the hardest hit by COVID-19. 
  • Frontline, lower-wage workers like transit operators, grocery store clerks, and food preparers and deliverers are struggling under the weight of lost wages, a lack of personal protective equipment, and higher rates of exposure
  • Kids who traditionally relied on their school for internet access and food are now navigating an impressive—but still community-driven—effort to cover these critical resources. 

As we collectively struggle with this pandemic which can infect all of us equally, but will affect us all differently, I’ve found Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” instructive as he dealt with the similarly virulent scourge of racism:

Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. 

When we pull one string to close schools, we loosen our social safety net a tad. And when we don’t pay living wages or appropriately honor those nameless workers who we all depend on now, we all pay the price. And when we chronically underinvest in the communities that need it the most, the status quo digs in a little deeper. 

So, even during these challenging times, let’s celebrate those areas where we’re already upending the status quo and let’s commit to ensuring that everyone benefits from the needed changes still to come.

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Welcome to the Rock…

4487140623_75d7681d73_oPhoto credit: Zach Bonnell

A few months ago, my wife and I took our 11-year-old daughter and 9-year-old son to see Come From Away at the Durham Performing Arts Center. Before going, all I knew about the show was that it told the story of the planes that were diverted to Newfoundland when the tragedy of 9/11 shut down the US airspace. As I learned after the amazing performance with cast members playing multiple parts with no intermission, it was that, but also so much more. 

I’ve been thinking about the major theme of community togetherness from Come From Away a lot over the past few days of isolation and social distancing, and not just because the soundtrack seems to be on repeat in our house.  

The diverted passengers almost doubled the size of the small town of Gander and the community responded with donations of food, shelter, and transportation. In that time of fear and confusion, these Canadian citizens responded to their better angels and made their guests as comfortable as possible. Instead of falling prey to any number of negative ways this could go, they instead recognized that they were more similar than they were different. 

The very nature of air travel and the fact that the flights that landed in Gander from all over the world perfectly illustrated the interconnected nature of the world. Planes take off and they have to land somewhere. Everyone on the plane puts their trust in the pilots, air traffic control tower personnel, and ground crew. These fundamental truths were what the islanders–as the Newfoundlanders called themselves–recognized even as they shared little in common with the passengers except the small town they were occupying together and their humanity. 

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Compared to 9/11 which descended on us with an unsettling speed and then burned for days, this COVID-19 pandemic and particularly the US response has been more akin to boiling a frog. All of the economic, political, and infrastructure decisions that have been made at a macro level for generations have been warming the water as many of us blithely swam around the pot. And now we’re starting to notice that water is getting too hot for our comfort and we know it’s going to boil over, throwing hot water and boiled frog everywhere around the kitchen. We just don’t know when.

Still, despite these differences, both 9/11 and the COVID-19 pandemic have highlighted our interconnectedness as well as the depths of humanity. 

The COVID-19 virus is a physical manifestation of our interconnectedness. The virus can’t travel by itself, so the only way it’s been able to travel from its point of origination halfway across the world to my rather small community in North Carolina is the connections between people.  Connections that we may have taken for granted, especially since social distancing began. 

In our community of Durham, NC, community members are taking steps to minimize the impact on local businesses by identifying ways to support them that still allow for social distancing. Whether that is purchasing coffee from one of our local roasters or creating spreadsheets where community members can identify restaurants offering takeout and delivery to ensuring that our local schoolkids get fed even though school is cancelled, we are coming together in ways that many couldn’t have anticipated. 

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If we can take ourselves back to the first few hours, days, and weeks after 9/11, they were some of the scariest, confusing, times of many of our lives, even if we were geographically far from the impacted areas. And yet that time was also where our country showed tremendous resilience, courage, and community. 

And birthed out of those contrasting feelings came Come From Away. Looking at Come From Away in this context helps me see the performance for what it is: art. Art has always served as a critical tool in helping people to cope with tremendous challenges while also honoring those who are doing the yeoman’s work to help others. 

While we don’t yet know the global health, financial, and psychological impact of COVID-19 will be, I can only hope that we can channel some of the same power that those brave souls who played parts of the larger 9/11 response and contribute art that will help us honor, appreciate, and mourn everyone and everything we lost. 

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As I settled into my seat a few months ago to watch Come From Away, I still didn’t know what the title referred to. Turns out it’s what Newfoundlanders call those who weren’t born there that end up on their remote island. The 7,000 plane people were all “come from aways” who found out that indeed “a candle’s in the window and the kettle’s always on.” 

And in introducing rocky and isolated Newfoundland to the audience in the opening song, “Welcome to the Rock,” the cast sets the tone for that time after 9/11 and still holds true now as we wrestle with COVID-19: “Welcome to the land where we lost our loved ones/And we said, we will still go on!”

Yes, we will.

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