Can we talk about that word? Unprecedented. MiLord, if I had to take a drink every time I heard during our nightly viewing of PBS Newshour or read in my perusal of daily news the word unprecedented, I’d be lit nonstop. This would not be good for anyone. Like anything overused, I think the power is lost when the thing in question—in this case a word: unprecedented—becomes run through the mental, social, media washing machine so many times that the original shape and color loosens and fades. It’s like my favorite Nirvana t-shirt that is nearly unrecognizable because the logo has sloughed off and the arm holes are sagged (and BTW, I must point out that the cotton t-shirt of the nineties is a different animal than the cotton of today. i.e., less bounce-back-able. But people, on the topic of cotton, we all must check our clothing sources to try and not be complicit in the Uigher human rights issues around clothing manufacturing. Jeezuz, there’s so much going on, I might just have to go naked. Drunk and naked. This year may take me there.). Enough digression:

Alternatives to the word: unparalleled, unequaled, unmatched (I just took the top three off the synonym chart). Somehow though, folkx are not using these options. There is no doubt we’re living in uncommon (maybe not strong enough) times: weather (hello, California fires, hurricanes that piggyback onto each other, and on and on), a pandemic that has virtually shut down the globe, a man in the White House who I look very much forward to being un-presidented doing things that cause people to use that U word over and over and over again. All these moments are taking their toll on our collective psyche. These past seven days were gnarly and completely anomalous in my fifty-nine years on the planet. And not just because of the El Dorado fire putting my dad squarely in an evacuation warning zone for the bulk of the week, though that was the main focus, there was a tiny personal matter that felt completely singular as well. But first to the our immediate surroundings.

I grew up in Cali and for the first 20 years of my life remember the always-battles with air quality, smog alerts. The Clean Air Act in 1970 started the state on the road to less smog, although I don’t remember a lot of fires. So I looked it up to make sure it wasn’t just me being an average teenager who really only cared about what was in my visual, aural, sensual vicinity. And, voila, an article in VOX confirmed it to be so: “California’s annual burned area has increased more than fivefold since 1972, which the [study] authors attribute in part to a warming climate.” While climate change is cited as reason number uno for the state of California being quite literally on fire for longer amounts of time, government mismanagement and humans moving into fire-prone areas share number 2 and 3 spots. So here we are. And the generation inheriting this crazy-asserie are being left with so much trauma and global problem solving that I feel an innate need to write an open letter of apology. So imagine my surprise when I saw this clip of young people born on September 11, 2001, view the world they inhabit now. Garrett Graff just published an oral history called The Only Plane In the Sky (here’s an excerpt from Politico), and I’ll tell ya, these young adults who have just come of voting age, are stunning in their sense that they can do better and are ready to take on the challenge. (Editing my open letter to them with many many kudos and thanks.) Now I realize that a byproduct of youth is to have a dose of positivity mixed with naivete mixed with a singular belief in superpowers that I remember from my time rolling around in those years. (Yes, I really did think that by going to the March For Women’s Lives & Reproductive Rights Rally in 1986 that we’d won and that was that.) But I also feel great hope that the staying power of this Generation Z will not burn them out in a circle of cynicism. (Again, the open letter of support, apology, and offer to show up as long as I can.) I am looking forward to watching I Am Greta because basically, if she asked, I would pretty much do whatever she needed. But until she calls, I know the things to do are make sure my actions are affecting the planet in as positive a ways as possible, to also write letters and make calls to government and state officials.

And speaking of young and old, a moment happened this week which reminded me that as I get older I’m happy to report that I care so much less what others think. Which is weird for me since I have spent my life working to make sure people like me. Always. At the cost of much individuality, I have often throughout my years gauged a situation, then not said or done what I was thinking in order to not bring about a conflict. And while this was done in the realm of work and romance for sure, there was definitely drift into my friendships. Over the years, as I feel more comfortable with myself and the people I love (thank you, therapy), I’ve been able to approach my own need-to-please with a little more honest nope-I-don’t-agree-ness. But still, when it came to strangers, my I-want-to-be-liked mechanism would be clocking in at one-hundred-percent. So when this week, I was faced with a neighbor who openly and without mask (she wasn’t wearing one), side-eye smirked me with a pursed mouth, slight head shake, and very tiny eye roll after I said Hello to her, all my innards went a bit crazy. I actually thought whaaaa. did that just happen? then I kept checking myself as a weird sort of freedom rolled in. Where I landed in Hell, yes had a lot to do with the fact that her dislike is based on an ongoing tussle we’re having over how she and her partner treat their dogs i.e., leave them alone for looonnnngg stretches so that they cry a lot and so we’ve not been shy about saying we can hear them and they need to take bette care of them. But regardless, in their eyes, we’re a bother. And this is the first time, no lie, that I’m okay with someone quite clearly not thinking I’m cool or fine or someone to know. Just like last week’s reckoning with my age, this is a new, groundbreaking, atypical feeling for me. And yes, it is unprecedented, but I’d really rather not have used that word.