One of the great comforts of being a child is the lack of consequence. Mistakes were made all the time: I routinely fell victim to my cousin's lies, and after each revelation of his duplicity, I would experience an inexplicable renewal of faith, thus allowing for his next great coup. My repeated victimization (of myself, one could argue) led to minor scrapes and bruises, bafflement, and fleeting embarrassment, none of which outlasted the day.
Were that still the case today! Adulthood (I always imagine myself as approaching adulthood, though I am already legally independent in a vast majority of societies) is frightening in part because consequences seem to multiply and outgrow our competence. Professionally, we are held accountable by virtue of the fact that we take salaried jobs. Emotionally, we and everyone we interact with have lost the golden amnesia of childhood: sadness is no longer a moment but an interminable state. Family is less a haven and more a responsibility. Social propriety? No longer optional.
I worry about these demands and expectations sometimes. And I doubt I am alone in doing so. But I am taking this opportunity today to reassure myself that no matter how great my failures, they can hardly rival that of the engineers responsible for designing the original Tacoma Narrows Bridge, which collapsed in 1940, only four months after it was erected. I should add, before I mock, that no life was actually lost in the collapse of the bridge
Were that still the case today! Adulthood (I always imagine myself as approaching adulthood, though I am already legally independent in a vast majority of societies) is frightening in part because consequences seem to multiply and outgrow our competence. Professionally, we are held accountable by virtue of the fact that we take salaried jobs. Emotionally, we and everyone we interact with have lost the golden amnesia of childhood: sadness is no longer a moment but an interminable state. Family is less a haven and more a responsibility. Social propriety? No longer optional.
I worry about these demands and expectations sometimes. And I doubt I am alone in doing so. But I am taking this opportunity today to reassure myself that no matter how great my failures, they can hardly rival that of the engineers responsible for designing the original Tacoma Narrows Bridge, which collapsed in 1940, only four months after it was erected. I should add, before I mock, that no life was actually lost in the collapse of the bridge
To the architects and civil engineers behind this remarkable phenomenon:
SUCKS TO BE YOU! (:<
0 comments:
Post a Comment