Ignorance is NOT Bliss…Instead, it can be a Motivator to Do More

When I turned 50, I felt wiser. I had stockpiled a half-decade of experiences – work, marriage, kids, friendships – to help prepare me for the “back nine of life,” as my husband likes to call it.

But as I reflected on my new milestone, I wondered: Had I really collected more wisdom? Or was it simply a greater sense of urgency and a decreased desire to care much about trivial things that propelled me in this more confident direction. 

I was a half-century old and, best case scenario, my life was at least half if not three-quarters of the way over. It was a sobering but liberating thought. 

If I wanted to write my next book, I’d better get started now.

If I wanted to run that half marathon in Aspen, I’d better get out and train today. 

If I wanted to spend more time with my family in NJ, I’d better get in my car and drive east.

I was whipping up my To-Do list and checking things off. No time to lament my age. When I turn 60, I rationalized, I’ll wish I was 50.

Getting older can equate with getting smarter. 

Then came the coronavirus pandemic and George Floyd’s death and subsquent protests, and I felt dumb all over again. 

Despite the warnings from Ebola and SARS and the H1N1 Swine flu; the COVID-19 news out of China in January of this year; and the history lessons from the 1918 Spanish flu, I was nevertheless blindsided by the dramatic impact the coronavirus would have on America.

I was ignorant, arrogant even, thinking these diseases were something that affected other poorer, less sophisticated or dictatorial nations, not the U.S.

I remember the moment when the severity of the coronavirus first hit me: A work colleague walked up to my desk on Thursday, March 12 and said, “The governor just closed schools for three weeks.” I didn’t believe him at first because of his reputation as a jokester and the seeming absurdity of such a move.

“You’re kidding, right?” I said. 

“No,” he said. “Seriously.”

I went online and read the news story. He was right.

Three days later, on my birthday, the governor ordered all restaurants and bars closed. A week later, all Ohioans were ordered to stay-at-home.

I woke up in disbelief some mornings during those next two months, feeling like I was a character in a bad sci-fi movie. How could I have lived half my life, feel so filled with wisdom from my half-decade of experience, and be so ignorant?

I devoured the news, wanting to learn as much as I could about this seemingly surreal crisis. But some days, I had to stop reading; it was too overwhelming. 

As I – and our world – became more educated about the coronavirus, I felt a little better. I also grew tired of living in fear and anxiety. This was no way to exist. We had to move on in caution and create our new normal.

As the economy began to “reopen,” life started to feel a little more normal. 

Then came the George Floyd incident and the world felt upside down again.

How could a police officer, sworn to protect us, hold his knee on a black man’s neck for nearly nine minutes until a man died? How could he do this despite pleas from bystanders and the man himself to let him up, to let him breathe?

As our country knows, a black man dying in the hands of police, unfortunately, is not new. It’s happened many, many times before and it’s sickened me every time. 

But I’m ashamed to say that beyond condemning it among my friend group and family and recognizing it’s wrong, I’ve done nothing. I’ve been ignorant to the fact that thinking I’m not a racist is not akin to being an antiracist – which requires actively doing something to change the way black people are treated in this country.

Months before Floyd died, a friend recommended the book “How to be an Antiracist.” I had it on my list. Now, I’m reading it. 

Another friend is active in registering people to vote and I’ve also thought that was a good idea. Now I’ve decided to donate money to get-out-the vote organizations targeted at minorities and volunteer to help register more voters, especially minority voters. 

I’ve also helped a friend hone her story about race and racism and how white people can become antiracists. Sharing stories and experiences is one of the most powerful things we can do to enlighten, motivate and activate important conversations and movements.

What’s your story – and how can it help unite us and change our world for the better?