What are words worth?

  What will we remember?   (written in spurts between 10 May and 30 November, 2020; revised 3/11 Jan 2021)   What will we remember? Will we have the perfect vision of twenty-twenty wisdom in hindsight and difficult lessons learned in this year of the pandemic?   It all depends on where you were --and where you are when memory strikes— sheltered in place with roof and walls paid for, your life and its paraphernalia  un-mortgaged, closets full of seasonal wear and cupboards neatly stocked; or leaning against the weak bamboo and flimsy tin listening to the blue plastic shiver because you did not have the strength or means to make a roof; fingering the notes, no longer crisp from the day’s labour—such as there is— counted out,  a measure of sweat and muscle; or left with only your memories and the fading noise of traffic on streets once meant for travel towards dreams, or dreams of work; or waiting, walking, wanting or forced to return to a place you once escap...

--> It’s not supposed to be this way. But then, one way to look at it is--the way it is, is the way it’s supposed to be. Barbara Kingsolver, in what is one of my favourite books of all time, Poisonwood Bible , says (paraphrasing here) that if there is one thing that all cultures, everywhere wish, it is that the young should outlive the old. But we all know only too well that this is only a hope, and there is never any certainty about who departs first. This part week brought this home rudely, with two young people I knew passing away much, much before their time (and I wonder even as I write this, what is that hubris that suggests we know or understand what ‘their time’ might be?). One of the great joys and promises of working in a university is interacting with young minds that are full of ideas, plans and promise. While most of this engagement is transient, there are occasions where one forms connections that are more enduring, offering intellectual s...