tomorrow

I recently stumbled upon a letter E.B. White wrote in response to another man’s despair and loss of faith in humanity:

Dear Mr. Nadeau:

As long as there is one upright man, as long as there is one compassionate woman, the contagion may spread and the scene is not desolate. Hope is the thing that is left to us, in a bad time. I shall get up Sunday morning and wind the clock, as a contribution to order and steadfastness.

Sailors have an expression about the weather: they say, the weather is a great bluffer. I guess the same is true of our human society — things can look dark, then a break shows in the clouds, and all is changed, sometimes rather suddenly. It is quite obvious that the human race has made a queer mess of life on this planet. But as a people we probably harbor seeds of goodness that have lain for a long time waiting to sprout when the conditions are right. Man’s curiosity, his relentlessness, his inventiveness, his ingenuity have led him into deep trouble. We can only hope that these same traits will enable him to claw his way out.

Hang on to your hat. Hang on to your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.

Sincerely,
E. B. White

I love this sentiment: tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow, we can be new again.

Years and years ago now, I went to a Twenty One Pilots show. They were a three piece act making noise in the local music scene. A friend of mine had send me their demo, which had profoundly impacted me.

After the show, I went up to Tyler Joseph and told him, “Your songs saved my life, man.” He got quiet and asked me if I was okay. I told him I was. He looked at me and said, “The beautiful thing about the morning is, it’s a chance to start over. You get to be new again.”

Here’s to tomorrow. Here’s to the morning. Here’s to being new again.