Back to the Bright Side

Passing through the darkest day of the year always gets me a little giddy. 

For some it’s a reminder of the world’s glorious precision, the pendulum of the earth’s axis tracking through the seasons the same as it did for our ancestors. Humans everywhere — well, those in the northern hemisphere, anyway — mark this crepuscular crest with ceremony and sparkle, a shining moment we can count on. 

If time were a ballerina, we’d be balancing on our toes between the past and the future, our perspective of the last 365.25 days perfectly en pointe. 

Whoever has that kind of stamina and grace, bless your heart. ‘Cause 2022 has hardly been an elegant, symmetric waltz for this clumsy weirdo. 

Professionally and personally, I’ve experienced a staggering sine curve of highs and lows this year, from writing about the miracle of microfinance for underserved communities then have my contract end thanks to the fintech industry’s macroeconomic meltdown to graduating from full-time mothering only to be held captive by the daily whims of a couple of spoiled rescue dogs. 

In between there have been scintillating conversations, stressful health scares, deepened friendships, disappointing restaurant meals (ugh, I know service is tight, but some places downtown aren’t even trying), exciting bird nerdery (pileated woodpeckers at the feeder, an osprey flying across my windshield with a limp squirrel in its talons) and the sad and unexpected exit of the closest thing to a mentor I’ll ever have, Jane Fishman.   

Civically — which I’ve come to define as politics plus community squared by people’s participation in the process — 2022 brought another avalanche of absurdity. Those crying about protecting state’s rights eliminated them for everyone with a uterus in 12 states as guns became the #1 leading cause of death for children in the US. Here in Georgia, a bewildering 1.7 million voted for a hilariously unqualified senatorial candidate in a run-off election even after he made campaign speeches about vampires, werewolves, and horseshit.

Then there’s terrifying acceleration of antisemitism online and in real life. Like most of my bruders and shvesters, I’ve inherited a certain neurosis from my pogrom-traumatized ancestors, though many of us have never felt more vulnerable or fearful than lately. 

What is happening on college campuses all over the country should alarm everyone. Maybe I shouldn’t have been that shocked when I saw a man hold a “heil” salute for a full three minutes at the UGA Homecoming game in the fall, but my blood ran even colder when I realized no one was going to say a word. When the digital message “Kanye was right'' streamed through the stadium in Jacksonville a few weeks later, we had long conversations  with our lil’ Bulldawg about her personal safety and how to recognize the shitty outdated tropes making their way into her TikTok feed.

Since childhood, my aim has been to be an ally to others in this jagged landscape of specific bigotries and endless injustice. Until the last few months, it hadn’t occurred to me that my loved ones and I might need our own. Anyone who still thinks having an antisemite over for dinner or entertains “not the real Jews” propaganda can fuck right off on one of Elon’s Space X rockets.

As it turns out, the allies are many. Many Christian leaders have been quick to preach solidarity from their pulpits, and I burst into tears when John Mellencamp hollered “Fuck antisemitism!” at the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame awards last month. Neighbors of all faiths have reached out to me with words of comfort and the promise that we all stand against hate together. 

Still,  I couldn’t help looking over my shoulder every five seconds when all the branches of Savannah’s Jewish family tree gathered in Forsyth Park late Sunday afternoon for the first night of Chanukah (spell it how you want; I will never give up the glottal stop.) Even though the perimeter was marked with police officers uniformed and not, I saw others surveying the crowd suspiciously, especially the guy in the Santa hat carrying a backpack with flashing lights.   

But Zalman and Zelda Refson, the devoted power couple of Chabad Savannah, managed to create a sense of peace and security while accomplishing the Chanukah miracle of assembling three synagogues, the JEA, and other Jewishy folk looking for connection during the darkest days of another dark year. 

The event brought out more of the mishpocheh than Yom Kippur services and was waaay more fun: Parents already worn down by the school break sent their kids off to a gauntlet of jumpyhouses, enthusiastic retirees handed out donuts and latkes, ugly dreidel sweaters abounded. I kibbitzed with old friends and new cute singles I’m dying to play matchmaker for (I ain’t called Yo, Yenta for nothing.) 

By the time inspirational rapper Nissim Black stepped to the bandshell, everyone had let their guard down to throw their hands up and spin like somebody made us out of clay. I mean, if an Orthodox African American former gang member who lives in Israel doesn’t unify Savannah’s Jewish community and its allies, I don’t know what can. 

The sun slid past the west end oaks too quickly. As our own Mayor Van Johnson did the honor of torching up the giant menorah with the first candle of the season, I sent up a prayer of gratitude to the ancestors who could not share such celebrations in public. Watching the shamash blaze brazenly here in our corner of a rapidly destabilizing planet skittering through space — the air crisp and finally cold enough to murder the mosquitos, my beloved camellias beginning to burst — I was reminded once again that the only way to through the darkness is to follow the light. 

As we pivot on the point of our planet’s tilt — some of us more gracelessly than others — I wish all y’all a meaningful solstice, Chappy Chanukah, Merry Christmas, Blessed Kwanzaa, and most of all, a new year illuminated by the universal force that connects us all.

May we take comfort in our own traditions and share in each others’ as we stand together watching the brightness return. 

Fired up for 2023 ~ JLL