I have to admit, I almost feel sorry for old 2020. It’s been catching a lot of hate these days, and not without cause. Of course, the year we call 2020 — with the obligatory eye-roll — isn’t an actual force unto itself, just a measure of time, one of the handy concepts we use to create a sense of order in the universe.
And there’s the rub. What this year took from us, along with far too many loved ones, is order itself, our sense of control over how life should go, our “normal.” 2020 put the lie to the notion that we are in charge.
Plans went out the window without a glimmer of warning. Not just specific plans, like someone’s birthday party or paying the rent, but the very ability to plan — to predict, to calculate, to organize.
The future went blank as the biggest jolts came seemingly out of the blue: the coronavirus itself, the rise of one movement for social justice and another against established authority. Even immutable objects like the U.S. elections were battered by controversy and defied predictions, all as the stock market plummeted, then roared to historic highs. The mail did go through, but for a time even that was thrown in doubt.
With vaccinations barely under way, it’s still too early for much planning, but there are powerful choices we can make right now, especially in how we view what’s happened and what we intend to do about it. Like it or not, we learned a few things:
As for that “normal” we’re in such an all-fired rush to get back to? Not so fast, pardner. There’s some normal we should have shed a long time ago, and this pandemic we can’t wait to leave behind is giving us a chance to see the world anew and make real changes in it.
As 2021 begins, it’s as if we’re pausing atop a great historic pivot, the likes of which we may never see again. We may not control the outcome, but we can step up and own our part in it.
No matter who won the 2020 elections, we all win when we choose hope over hate; when culture and community flourish with or without Twitter and TikTok; when George Floyd’s grandkids go about their lives without fear; when we help each other find jobs, food, shelter, promise and meaning in life. When we help each other, period.
Asta Bowen is a contributor to Writers on the Range, writersontherange.org, a nonprofit dedicated to spurring lively conversation about the West. She writes in Montana.