Exposing Ourselves

Last month the NSA’s surveillance programs got a lot of press attention. A common refrain was that Americans deserved criticism for their lack of concern about privacy. A political cartoonist that I really respect, Mike Lukovich of the Atlanta Constitution, portrayed two Americans as flashers exposing themselves to Uncle Sam. This is a typical attitude.

But it occurred to me that, throughout history, many of the personal problems that people suffered from were directly linked to secrecy; to the need to hide anything that wasn’t socially acceptable at the time.

Homosexuality is an example. Just a couple of generations ago, how many men and women suffered for their entire lives because they had to hide the fact that they were homosexual? Now you can post photos on Facebook of yourself cavorting on a beach with your same-sex lovers, and your friends, of all sexual orientations, will cheer.

The “It Gets Better” campaign, begun in 2010 by columnist Dan Savage in the wake of a number of LGBT youth taking their own lives after being harassed, has inspired tens of thousands of people to share their own personal story through video. These videos reveal private information, and that’s the entire point. The openness is what provides encouragement and hope to others in difficult situations.

Ode to Winter

Winter is so often maligned. People say it’s ugly: they talk about the sadness of the leaves being gone and the obvious superior beauty of spring, summer, and fall. Of course, they might say, snow is beautiful but that’s about it.

I love winter in a purely aesthetic way. As a child I can remember riding in the backseat of our car, looking out the window at a bare tree silhouetted against a winter dusk sky of pink and orange and deepest midnight blue and being moved by the beauty. That is still today one of the most beautiful things I know. 

Just down the road from my house is a field that climbs a hill, ending in a row of trees along the top of a ridge. Looking at those trees silhouetted against the deepening night of a winter sky is one of the pleasures of my year here. I rarely notice those trees any other time of year—all the foliage blocks the clean geometric lines of the branches.