As I look around at the state of affairs in the world and in our nation, it's easy to go back to the feeling that "we've gone to Hell in a handbasket," as Grandma, and then Dad used to say.
Honestly, Dad probably does still say that, I'm just not around to hear him. He does still hold to his idea that the downfall of the family rests squarely at the feet of Rosie the Riveter, which is a story for another day.
But the handbasket thing is a saying that I'm almost positive every generation has clamored about.
Here we are, watching war and strife, our government and gas prices out of control. The Dalai Lama, the ultimate figurehead for peace, offering to step down to protect his people. Our own poor economy, the dollar falling in direct relation to the growth of our bullying. Karma? Can we now say "recession" without being accused of being un-American? Children who would gang up on another child hoping for fame, shootings at schools, an endless string of missing and/or dead pregnant women.
Every day brings more snippets of awfulness to underscore the possibility that things aren't going well. It's about all the proof I need that I should plant a garden, throw a solar panel on the roof and take shooting lessons.
And that this time, maybe we really are strolling down the path, handbasket at the ready.
And then comes a wee bit of light, courtesy of Mrs. Davis' fifth graders at Sutro Elementary.
I have been honored and privileged to spend two days each week (unless deadlines have buried me) this school year, with her reading class.
Amazing students, each and every one who paused me to rethink recently, what is possible for the future.
Their future. Our future.
They were reading about the quest for El Dorado, the fabled city of gold that numerous people over many centuries, have spent a great deal of energy, money and even their lives, in search of.
The question they were given to answer was this: "Is there anything that gold cannot buy?" They had to include whether they agreed or disagreed and why.
Most disagreed, and even those who agreed, had a "but" in their answers.
The dialogue also offered opportunity to expand on their topics, which in itself was remarkable. Children are way smarter than we give them credit for.
Their answers?
Gold cannot buy true friendship (if you have to buy a friend they're not "for real"), or true love, (we discussed the definition of "gold digger" and yes, it can be a miner). It cannot buy peace, though it's financed many wars. Gold cannot buy the earth and it cannot buy the truth. It cannot buy family. It can buy good medical care, but gold cannot buy good health. Gold cannot buy happiness (an amazing number of adults have yet to figure this one out!).
Finally, they said gold cannot buy hope.
Hope.
Because of these children, I have found a glimmer of that most precious commodity.
Hope.
Thanks to them I am hopeful, because I realize these children "get it." In spite of whatever else is going on, whatever challenges they may each face in their own lives, in the deepest part of themselves, they have each figured out what in life is most meaningful and precious.
I pray they never forget. Because we'll be needing their sense of values, their belief in hope in our future more than ever.
• Karel Ancona-Henry is a Dayton resident and can be reached at 246-4000.