I'm late to this, but of course swooned for this graph: "Sometimes, bad things just happen. Much more frequently, though, there is a pattern to our world’s tragedies. Whenever we fetishize the making of money and the hardening of hierarchies, we plant a set of seeds that will eventually bear rotten fruit. We tell a bunch of people that they’re White and that therefore they deserve to be on top of the world. We pretend that a corporation’s bottom line is more important than human life or the land that provides for us. We Manifest Destiny our way across continents and embark on victory cruises to commemorate our individual triumph over the world. And of course, when we do so, we bear the fruit of assassins’ bullets and sinking ships and an Earth that heaves in revolt at its mistreatment. Most of this, sadly, isn’t random. Most of it is on us. And that’s awful."
A perfect Good Friday read, Garrett. Such a lovely reflection on grief and hope and how we struggle to hold it all together - and the irony of why we call today Good. Thank you!
Happy Good Friday, Amy! I think I realized mid-way through "oh, this is about Good Friday!" which made the part of me that always wanted to but never went to divinity school very happy.
I don't usually write comments because I am not a good writer like the rest of you all ☺️ but there was so much in this piece that resonated with me: upper Midwestern German, Gillian Welch, Woody Guthrie, and that difficult juggling act of hope and grief in these times. I look forward to your writing, Garrett, each week. Thank you!
this is very beautiful, and also really hit me where i live-- I recently also had two memorials to attend in one day. I'd been dreading it, it seemed like A Bit Much, but I also found it really meaningful and galvanizing to spend a full day immersed in mourning two extremely different people from extremely different parts of my life, and i also found that it brought me further into a sense of loving solidarity with others.
despite being raised on old folk and blues, I'd never clued into the coincidence of Ruination Day, but I'll put it in my calendar to mark next year, and I think a weird convenience store snack is a perfect start.
I think community action on Ruination Day is a great suggestion (though the more I think about it the more I strongly recommend still chasing that community action with a vaguely depressing cherry red icee).
I cannot even. I haven't had one of those since college! I would personally opt for a vaguely depressing ham sandwich from Kmart (because the one in Bozeman had a deli counter when I was growing up and it was a rare treat), but I don't think those exist anymore.
How do you explain to a wealthy person who moved to Bozeman last year that the same city that they just paid a million dollars to live in was once a place where you could buy a depressing ham sandwich at a Kmart?
I just . . . good lord, I have no idea. But think of what they're missing out on! It's like the plastic cup holders and terrible coffee for after-church coffee hour. I really looked forward to those ham sandwiches.
I'm late to this, but of course swooned for this graph: "Sometimes, bad things just happen. Much more frequently, though, there is a pattern to our world’s tragedies. Whenever we fetishize the making of money and the hardening of hierarchies, we plant a set of seeds that will eventually bear rotten fruit. We tell a bunch of people that they’re White and that therefore they deserve to be on top of the world. We pretend that a corporation’s bottom line is more important than human life or the land that provides for us. We Manifest Destiny our way across continents and embark on victory cruises to commemorate our individual triumph over the world. And of course, when we do so, we bear the fruit of assassins’ bullets and sinking ships and an Earth that heaves in revolt at its mistreatment. Most of this, sadly, isn’t random. Most of it is on us. And that’s awful."
Same.
A perfect Good Friday read, Garrett. Such a lovely reflection on grief and hope and how we struggle to hold it all together - and the irony of why we call today Good. Thank you!
Happy Good Friday, Amy! I think I realized mid-way through "oh, this is about Good Friday!" which made the part of me that always wanted to but never went to divinity school very happy.
I don't usually write comments because I am not a good writer like the rest of you all ☺️ but there was so much in this piece that resonated with me: upper Midwestern German, Gillian Welch, Woody Guthrie, and that difficult juggling act of hope and grief in these times. I look forward to your writing, Garrett, each week. Thank you!
this is very beautiful, and also really hit me where i live-- I recently also had two memorials to attend in one day. I'd been dreading it, it seemed like A Bit Much, but I also found it really meaningful and galvanizing to spend a full day immersed in mourning two extremely different people from extremely different parts of my life, and i also found that it brought me further into a sense of loving solidarity with others.
despite being raised on old folk and blues, I'd never clued into the coincidence of Ruination Day, but I'll put it in my calendar to mark next year, and I think a weird convenience store snack is a perfect start.
That's so well put. That's EXACTLY how the Too Many Memorials experience felt for me too.
I have never heard of Ruination Day before but within an hour received your essay about it and this one: https://luke.substack.com/p/these-people-have-stolen-everything?s=r
Which also lauds Gillian Welch!
A good question how to celebrate it. Community service of some kind seems an obvious answer, but you already do a lot of that.
I think community action on Ruination Day is a great suggestion (though the more I think about it the more I strongly recommend still chasing that community action with a vaguely depressing cherry red icee).
I cannot even. I haven't had one of those since college! I would personally opt for a vaguely depressing ham sandwich from Kmart (because the one in Bozeman had a deli counter when I was growing up and it was a rare treat), but I don't think those exist anymore.
How do you explain to a wealthy person who moved to Bozeman last year that the same city that they just paid a million dollars to live in was once a place where you could buy a depressing ham sandwich at a Kmart?
I just . . . good lord, I have no idea. But think of what they're missing out on! It's like the plastic cup holders and terrible coffee for after-church coffee hour. I really looked forward to those ham sandwiches.