The Uniting Power of Tragedy
Naturally, as we emerge from “the most wonderful time of the year,” I’ve been thinking a lot about tragedy. (That was sarcasm, for those of you who need assistance.) The truth is, when tragedy strikes around the holidays, it yanks us down from our mistletoe moods and appears more stark than ever. On the morning after Christmas, a house fire took the life of a father of an old friend of mine. Firetrucks rustled deflated lawn snowmen and wreaths as they sped by. It was a sad, striking contrast.
Tragedy is always a great bringer of unity, because there is support in numbers. We like to tell people when we donate money to a worthy cause, such as the devastating war in Ukraine. We like to bring up sad events in conversation, because they carry an emotion we can all agree on, and agreement is a rarity these days. As [sane] humans, we all understand when sadness is the mood of the hour, and misery loves company, as they say (whoever they are).
Sometimes, reactions in the face of tragedy are performative, though not disingenuous—like hanging the picture of a rainbow in your window to provide cheer during COVID lockdowns, or a Ukrainian flag. As humans, we like to let people know that we care, that we are supporting those affected by tragedy. We like to make our support visible, in the hope that it will appear louder and spur others to act in support, as well.
In a time of such national division, unity is a great comfort, even if we find it through less-than-ideal means.
Really, I’ve been thinking a lot about Damar Hamlin, as many of us have. Generally speaking, I don’t give a s**t about the Buffalo Bills. Sure, a bunch of years ago they beat the Jets to send us to the playoffs (us/we = Steelers), and we sent them Primanti Bros sandwiches as a thank you. But on an average day during football season, eh, who cares? All the Bills Mafia is good for is breaking tables, right? (Oh, and shoveling out cars from ten-foot snowdrifts, which I guess gives them some brownie points… but I digress.)
The heart of the matter is that millions were watching Monday night as the young safety went limp in the middle of the first quarter, received CPR on the field, and was carted off by ambulance in front of a stunned crowd and weeping teammates. None of us knew what was really happening, but we all knew it was a tragedy.
When someone so young is so publicly hurt, the people respond. Just look what happened in Iran. In the days since Hamlin’s fall on the field, we all, as an American society, have been talking about it, hoping for the best, praying to our god of choice, commiserating over the dangers of football, sending links to online updates, breathing sighs of relief when we learned he is now breathing on his own.
For this week’s games, teams are allowed to outline the “3” on both 30-yard lines in Buffalo blue or red in Damar’s honor. Players and coaches are allowed to wear special pregame gear created in his name. Again, there is a fine line between performance and truly caring (especially when it comes to a league with a history of failing its players and coaches), but for the most part, this show of support for Damar is a comfort. It has us thinking, wow, the things on my mind are the same things on the minds of millions of others. I am a part of something. We are doing something as one people. This feels nice.
In moments of tragedy, we realize that there is more to life than being right or wrong, or winning a race, or getting that Christmas gift you asked for. We realize that our ultimate, purest purpose is love.
Yes, I am in the middle of reading Bugliosi’s Helter Skelter, but Manson has not rubbed off on me. I’m no hippie. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of why people who love to hate each other on a daily basis can be reprogrammed in the face of disaster and loss. It’s such a paradoxical and powerful thing that tragedy can be the greatest impetus for good. Damar’s charity has raised over seven million in the aftermath of his very public misfortune.
Tragedy is terrible at its core, but as humans, we have found a way to use sadness as a fuel for making things better. Better for a country, an individual, an ideology, or even for a moment. I am not a philosopher by training, so I won’t milk these musings anymore, but it’s interesting to think about. Why do we often need tragedy to find the good? How can we recognize that the good in all of us is always there? How can we harness that good when there is no urgency? This new year, let’s all aim to be generous, altruistic, kind, and caring without a reason. Not to prescribe a resolution or anything…
Otherwise, for anyone wondering, I am healing up well from my surgery, though I am still numb on my upper lip and have no way to tell if my nose is running. That said, hope everyone has a nice weekend.