In 1921, at age 39, Franklin Delano Roosevelt was a rising star in the political world. Vacationing on remote Campobello Island, in Canada, he awoke one morning without feeling in his legs. Over the next few nerve-racking days, his condition worsened, was misunderstood and misdiagnosed. Almost one month later, the headline blared to the world from the New York Times, "F.D. Roosevelt Ill of Poliomyelitis."
As careful as we may be,
as strong as we may be,
as faithful as we may be,
life can take left turns.
And the walls come crashing down.
The only real question... What happens next?
The 1992 film, Scent of a Woman tells the story of Charlie (Chris O'Donnell), a preparatory school student who takes a job as an assistant to Col. Slade (Al Pacino) an irascible, blind, medically-retired Army officer. The story takes us on journey where the colonel plans to spend the last days of his life doing those things he always wanted to do (but never did). He had convinced himself that once his list was completed, his cache of hope would be expired, and his life, would be done. In the story, his hope is revived by Charlie, who persuades him to go on with life. And in the end, the colonel helps Charlie in getting over his dilemma: should he save his college scholarship or compromise his integrity by snitching on his classmates?
In a "courtroom" scene at the school, the colonel says; "I've been around, you know? There was a time I could see. And I have seen. Boys like these, younger than these, their arms torn out, their legs ripped off. But there isn't nothin' like the sight of an amputated spirit. There is no prosthetic for that. You think you're merely sending this splendid foot soldier back home to Oregon with his tail between his legs, but I say you are executin' his soul."
For the very physically active FDR, this news--polio, paraplegic, potentially a stationary life--could have utterly unraveled him.
Not unlike an amputated spirit.
It is reported, however, that Franklin took the news from his physician without showing any emotion. (In later years, Frances Perkins, Roosevelt's secretary of labor, would notice that at a time of crisis, such as Pearl Harbor, there was a 'studied quality' about Roosevelt's calmness.)
But what now? What happens next?
With his starkly diminished capacity what choices would he make? With his family and life at a crossroads, FDR's mother, Sara Ann Delano (known for her reputation as a "controlling" presence) weighed in, "She had made up her mind that Franklin was going to be an invalid for the rest of his life and that we would retire to Hyde Park and live there."
No, Franklin did not follow his Mother's advice.
And we are better off because of it.
In 1928 he was elected the Governor of New York.
In 1932 he became the 32nd president of the United States. He served four terms. The result? A transformed life and a transformed world.
Tomorrow is the Feast of the Epiphany--the 12th Day of Christmas--so it's time to pack away Christmas ornaments, toss the tree on the compost heap, and listen to Blue Christmas one last time. Tidying up has its place, and I confess I enjoy the fact that the New Year gives way to time for introspection, and self evaluation... you know putting yourself through the paces to be weighed and measured. Although, the next thing you know, a couple hours have passed, the wine is gone and you have a page or two full of "woulda coulda shoulda" lists.
It's no wonder really. We live in a culture wired to improve. That is no doubt one of our strengths. Except that we see anything less as weakness. So it is mandatory that we have our ducks in a row and our life in order. Or, at least resolutions that will leave us "new and improved."
There is a secret hope that we can find the formula. I read an article with New Year book recommendations. There were a dozen books to choose from, all guaranteed to make my life "prosperous." One insisted that I "take back my life." Another reminded me to "aim high and shoot for the stars." All of them alluring, but how do you choose when there are so many? I found myself wishing the list was only two books instead of twelve, and certain even with two that I would not choose the best of the lot. It all gave me a headache, and I didn't want to start the new year with a headache, so I took a detour in my garden. I ambled, and marveled at the way the frost coated the blades on swathes of Black Mondo Grass. And if you look real close, peeking from the hoarfrost covered ground, you can see the adamant shoots of spring crocus. Which means that the diminutive Narcissus tête-à-tête will not be far behind. In the garden, all my mental machinations melt away. Oddly, none of the books mention this...
Looking at the way the frost crystallizes on the leaves and grass, brought to mind the poet Francis Ponge, who spoke of the meaning that is locked in the "simplest object or person,"and "in these terms, one will surely understand what I consider to be the function of poetry. It is to nourish the spirit of man by giving him the cosmos to suckle." Yes. And Amen. And perhaps resiliency begins there.
One thing I love about the FDR story is that he wasn't looking for "new and improved."
What happens next?
In his case, literally living into authenticity.
Authenticity, being at home with this self.
Authenticity, letting go of who we think we're supposed to be and embracing who we are. Meaning that this resolve is already inside of each of us, a vein of gold or silver resiliency in the bedrock of our soul. (Although there are times, too many, when I don't believe I have what it takes.)
Mindfully practicing authenticity during our most soul-searching struggles is how we invite grace, joy, and gratitude into our lives.
Brené Brown
Here's the deal: In order to see, we must let go of our prejudice that only that which is big or notable or positive or new and improved is of value. In the middle of a transition,
when our emotions feel alien,
our dreams seem small or non-existent,
our outlook uncertain,
our esteem on a roller coaster,
we need to be reminded that it is precisely there, in the particularity of the ordinary, the simple, the accidental, the shadow-side, the uncertain, the unlucky, and the small... that life can be embraced.
Wandering my garden, it didn't take long to forget about the prosperity books. Even still, reading the FDR story, it's tempting to coerce a list.
What did make him so resilient?
I don't know.
But I do know this... I savored the story. Maybe that's a beginning.
Resiliency. I'm not sure you can manufacture it, but you can celebrate it when you see it. And on this clear winter night in the Pacific Northwest, the sky is perfect to enjoy Venus, if you look to the lower right of the waxing crescent Moon. On the back patio, my breath floats into the night sky. And I think of the daffodil shoots biding their time, waiting to parade their spring robes of lemon and saffron.
The ones who are crazy enough
to think they can change the world,
are the ones who do.
Steve Jobs
Notes: (1) The story about FDR adapted from Franklin an Eleanor by Hazel Rowley
(2) The quote from Sara Delano, in a letter written by Eleanor Roosevelt
