The Politics of Depression

As one wordsmith to another, I really appreciate President Obama’s use of historical echo in his speeches. Although, I have to admit, the parallels are a little unsettling.

Take, for example, his victory speech in Chicago. He addressed the 60 million people who voted against him with these words: “We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection.” Those were Lincoln’s words after he won the 1860 election. It was a little different. After Lincoln won, South Carolina seceded and the Civil War started. No sign of that yet. But does he know something we don’t?

Then there was his speech to Congress the other night. Acknowledging our national economic travails, he said: “I want every American to know this. We will rebuild, we will recover, and the United States of America will emerge stronger than before.” Hmmm. That sounded familiar. Echoes again. In his famous first inaugural, Franklin Roosevelt said: “This great Nation will endure as it has endured, will survive and will prosper. So, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is  – fear itself.” Six more years of depression followed.

Now I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with following history as a blueprint.  It’s just that, well, there are some parts of history I really don’t want to repeat. Depression, for one. My brother Thomas was down for Mardi Gras and kept remarking how prosperous things looked here, compared with the Chicago suburbs where he lives, which exhibit signs of economic turmoil on every corner, like closed restaurants. I’m hoping we turn this around, that our President’s confidence in the ability of this country to turn itself around is well-placed.

“Depression” is such an evil sounding word, whether applied to personal or national life. I think it means losing your way, as an individual or a society, becoming something other than what you thought you were. I just attended a seminar in Houston sponsored by the Texas Bar and was surprised to see an extra page inserted into the materials offering guidance if you or a fellow lawyer is showing signs of depression. Here are some of the symptoms to watch out for:

•    Spends hours at the office behind a closed door staring out the window;

•    Is confused by an inability to “snap out of it,” feels “weak,” and berates self;

•    Feels overwhelmed and immobilized by indecisiveness; and

•    Tries to feel better by using alcohol or other substances, including food.

This gridlock of the soul applies equally well to our society, which is why, I suspect, President Obama channeled Franklin Roosevelt. Nobody is spending money. Nobody is buying houses. Everybody’s just holding on, hoping it doesn’t get worse. It is a national loss of self-identity, which from my Boomer perspective, seems to be more widespread.

I am a father, a lawyer, a friend, a business owner, an employer, a homeowner, and a sometimes writer. I am a mostly indifferent member of several groups. That’s my identity. But my children (except Harry, bless him) are grown and on their own. My business is a constant source of intellectual stimulation. My friends have their own lives, but provide me lots of smiles and warm feelings nevertheless. All those self-identifying characteristics, and the others, are who I am. Why, then, am I still searching? Maybe it’s that old Annie Lennox line, “Everybody’s looking for something.”

Maybe we as a nation are looking for something. I remember as a child, the Cuban Missile Crisis formed the background static in my chorus of security. My brother was living in Orlando at the time, and had just recently ended his enlistment in the Air Force. I was 11 and in the seventh grade.

That summer, our family had visited Orlando, and there were fallout shelters for sale in the parking lots of department stores. It was a big enough deal that our principal pulled us all out of our classrooms the day the ships met in Cuban waters, I suppose preparing to have us “duck and cover” in the cafeteria if the worst happened. It didn’t, of course. But I spent many days in my teen years expecting a missile overhead at any minute. Knowing it was possible, however unlikely, took just enough of a chunk out of my security blanket to make things a little uncomfortable, a little unsettled.

We are in those times now. Terrorism, the sight of more planes crashing into more tall buildings and the sound of truck bombs exploding outside government offices, is the echo of today, the buzz in our ears reminding us all is not completely right with the world. The economic uncertainties now gripping us are a second layer depriving us as a society of the certainty of who we are.

Like President Obama, though, I believe depression is a symptom that can be fought with support of friends and neighbors and, to some extent, by whistling past that graveyard. Maybe it does help to say, forcefully and loudly, we will get over this.

In the meantime, go have a chocolate ice cream cone. It may not help, but hey, it can’t hurt. Cheer up, and I’ll see you guys on the flip.