One of my favorite writing lessons to teach was “A penny for your thoughts.” I gave each student a penny, then as a class we discussed the coin. First, we listed details about the coin itself. What could we see? What could we hear when we tapped against various surfaces? What could we feel when we rubbed our fingers over it? What could we smell? I forbade the students from putting it in their mouths to taste it, but I did ask them to remember what it tasted like when they, as children, had put a coin in their mouths.
Then, I challenged them. Hold the penny between your thumb and forefinger so that you are looking at the ridged rim. Move the coin until it is about six to 12 inches beyond your face. What do you see now? Distortion. Double Vision. Both sides. Inevitably, you will see both sides at the same time.
And what’s on the two sides of any coin, any issue? Heads and tails? Good and Evil? Good and Good? Quite often what we see is only what we look for.
In my last two columns, I reported on two different approaches in dealing with the overwhelming pressures created by a very technology-oriented world, a deadly pandemic, a war in the making. We know that staring at a computer screen into the night physically disturbs sleep. We know that the constant ring or vibration of phone call after phone call can jitter nerves. We know that constant demands on our time and energy can make us want to run away. We know the destruction of life and way of life caused by COVID-19 and its variants. We stare into the face of WWIII.
In my first column, walking experts talk about the value of flaneuring, meandering without a destination in mind, but being in the moment. The second column focused on sitting still and waiting on the Lord.
With books, most sequels merely continue a story left unfinished. But recently I encountered a sequel that turns the first book upside down.
Cecelia Ahern’s sequel Postscript disputes the premise of her novel, P.S. I Love You. The first book tells the story of how Gerry, a terminally ill cancer patient, writes and leaves a dozen letters for his wife Holly to discover one by one to help her move on after he has died. The reader celebrates the growth of the protagonist as she copes with her seemingly unbearable grief.
The sequel takes place seven years after Gerry’s death; six years after Holly has opened and followed the directions in his last letter. She has moved on. She has a new job, a new boyfriend…
A group of terminally ill patients have formed the “P.S. I Love You” Club and they want Holly to help them write meaningful letters for their loved ones. Reluctantly, Holly agrees to help. In doing so, she realizes that writing the letters probably helps the patients more than the recipients.
Two sides of the same coin. Two different realizations.
This read prompted a memory of my favorite Barbara Kingsolver’s book, The Bean Trees. The story centers around a young woman, raising as her own, a little girl who literally has been thrust upon her. The child has been abused. In this book, we watch the child begin to heal and grow into a healthy person.
The sequel, Pigs in Heaven, turns the reader’s world upside down. In Bean Trees, we are satisfied that the child is living her best life possible. But the second book makes the reader aware that every Native American child should have the opportunity to know and appreciate her heritage.
Two sides of the same coin. Two different realizations. Both correct.
In today’s polarized society, too many of us, unfortunately, view the two sides of every issue as “my side and the wrong side.” It would behoove this country that we all claim to love, for each of us to slow down and really examine not only the opposing point of view, but also the reasons we cling to our own stance. Is our stance based on proven fact or do we refuse to give up rumors and biases? Every coin has two sides; so do issues.
2022
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