It’s the 31st of October, and I’m squeezed on a couch with my sisters and cousins all huddled under one, enormous blanket. I am twelve years old, so, of course, the ferocious wind howling down our chimney or the dark shadows lurking in the corners have no effect on my nerves. My mom is calmly seated in front of us, a cup of tea clasped in her hands, as we all clamor and plead with her. We are desperate to hear more of her bewitching story.
The story was about a girl named Sophie. As a teenager, my mom met Sophie at a remote sleep-away camp in rural Quebec. Sophie and my mom braided friendship bracelets, rode horses and canoed down rushing rapids all summer long. But French-speaking Sophie would murmur in her sleep, keeping my mom up at night in their shared cabin bunk beds. As the story unfolded, we learned more about Sophie’s unsettling condition — her clairvoyant dreams.
My mother is an enthralling storyteller, and while most of her bedtime stories were not scary, the ones that lingered in my imagination and the ones that I craved the most were. The stories were creepy because they brushed right up against the fringes of plausibility and played heavily into suspense. We would reassure each other that it could never happen in real life. We were safe after all and it was just Halloween make-believe, wasn’t it?
Speaking of — Happy Halloween, Brunonia! It’s officially the spookiest day of the year. This fall, spooky season and election season have converged. On the Hill, the political rhetoric shrouds many in fear and anxiety, and suspense mounts as the specter of election day looms near. Will the country swing left or right? How will it all end?
How do we manage these fears in real life, when it isn’t just fantasy? Whenever I lose perspective, I like to step back and remind myself of the context. So last Friday afternoon, during an October recess lull, I took myself on a visitor center tour of the U.S. Capitol.
The tour began with a film and a central message: to understand Congress, look to our country and look to our beginnings. On the big screen, the vast beauty of America across Hawaii, Montana and Louisiana was astonishing. I was moved by the way they narrated the conceptualization of our nation’s ideology. They told of the challenges our founders knew we would face during this great experiment in political freedom. Our American motto resounded with more truth than ever before — “E pluribus, unum” meaning “Out of many, one.” We come from different cultures, religions, regions and viewpoints, but what unites us is that we are all fiercely freedom-loving. The strength of our republic depends on our collective commitment to the pursuit of freedom for all.
I have sensed a lot of fearful nihilism this week. Let’s resist the pull of pessimism. While our politics may seem paranormal, none of us are clairvoyant: the outcome of this close race is unknown. Anxious predictions on both sides that we’re in for disaster fearmonger and question the resilience of our public institutions. I, however, remain unafraid going into next week’s election because I believe that the core values of our country will prevail.
In the meantime, there are more tangible things to do that would be helpful beyond stressing. Remember: Next Tuesday, we aren’t passively listening to a scary story. We are all active characters in the narrative with the right to an equal say in the ending. I am manifesting my hope for a happy resolution by casting a vote, and we will see where it takes us.
