The Last Word On Nothing

We’re thinking about Queen Elizabeth these days, or at least I am. She just soldiered on, didn’t she — did her duty. That word, duty, isn’t as popular as it used to be and maybe that’s good, maybe not. The Queen certainly never stopped doing it, I’ll bet she died thinking about her duty.

Anyway, this post was first published October 1, 2018 and is slightly edited. It’s the Queen translated into Baltimore, and it’s less about duty than about the strength it takes to do it.

One morning in my usual small coffee shop with the usual people, a young woman walks in, long straight hair of varying colors, flannel shirt, ill-advised leggings, you know the look.  An old guy at the table of regulars – the regulars tend to have been living in the neighborhood for generations – says to the young woman, “How ya doin’, hon.  You look tired.” 

Hon flips back her hair and says, “I am.  I don’t want to go to work.” 

The old regular says, “But ya gotta.  Ya gotta go to work.” 

“I don’t want to, says Hon. 

A woman, back-combed maroon/pink hair and heavy on the eye liner, coeval with the old regular, says “I know, hon.  But it don’t get easier.” 

The old regular agrees, “No, it don’t.” 

“It gets harder,” says the older woman. 

Hon looks disbelieving.  I, coeval with the regulars, can’t keep my mouth shut:  “You’ve gotta be strong,” I yell across the room, “you’ve gotta build your strength up.” 

The older woman nods her head at Hon, says, “You’re gonna need your strength.” 

I think I should start keeping my mouth shut. I want to tell Hon about about the old Anglo-Saxon king, dying at the Battle of Maldon:  “Mind must be the stronger, heart the bolder, courage must be the greater, as our strength lessens.”

I want to tell her — my, but I want to tell her — how many times I did what I didn’t want to or didn’t think I could; how I know exactly where my weaknesses are, how they have and have not changed with time; how fast my strength and faith can disappear, how easily I can cave in and fall down; how I can find nothing to hold on to, nothing to say I’m not nothing.  Crack, boom, that’s it, I’m gone. 

Then I want to tell her, never mind.  Because us old regulars (those of us without clinical depression) have decades of practice at building up our strength, keeping the faith, going to work regardless.

I don’t say any of this because I figured the regulars already had it covered.  Hon sighs and says, “Guess I gotta pull myself together.”  Yes indeedy, Hon.

And after a few decades of pulling yourself together and going to work the best way you know how, in spite of lessened or lessening strength, you’ll find that your mind and heart and courage are strong and bold and great.

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Note from the present: the Battle of Maldon is real but my use of the quote is misleading. The Anglo-Saxon was not exactly a king, he was whatever an ealdorman was. And he didn’t say that line — which is famous in spite of being over 1,000 years old — because he’d just been hacked to death.  His followers said it, giving each other courage to keep fighting.  But this quote was written by a poet and you know what poets are like: they make shit up.  So who knows who actually said what, and anyway I think that the quote works regardless of who says it.

That is, let’s be purist and say the king wasn’t telling his followers how to live; let’s say his followers were telling each other to hold themselves together against being outnumbered and frightened and ready to die. And how better to hold together unfrightened than to see your king, ealdorman, your queen, someone public, with a strong mind, bold heart, and great courage, regardless of strength.

One of the comments on this original post was from Jessa:

“I was at the funeral of a relative, Diana, who had lived to 100 and led a remarkable life. The vicar always opens with ‘If you are able, please stand.’ This time, he then remarked, ‘Just as I said that, I thought of Diana, who stood whether she was able or not.’”

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replica of an Anglo-Saxon helmut found at Sutton Hoo, by Ziko-C via Wikimedia Commons