Towards the end of this collection, Letters of E.B. White, is a letter I come back to often. It was written in March of 1973 but it seems especially pertinent now. I re-read it the other day and found myself abandoning the project I had been working on and starting something new - something in search of compassion and hope.
There will always be a need for different kinds of stories. We need the stories that grapple with cruelty and suffering head on, but we also need the stories that reaffirm, lift and inspire. As a reader I like to read both, but as a writer in this particular moment, I don’t seem to have a choice. I feel compelled to explore the boundaries of hope and joy amidst sorrow and uncertainty, to search for wonder in impossible places. This pandemic comes on the heels of history chequered with terrible acts of war, periods of devastating cruelty and a woefully inadequate response to the climate crisis. And yet buried within our shared history are glimpses of selflessness, courage and integrity, small acts of kindness and great acts of love. I see them happening today too.
I come back to this letter because I can relate to both points of view. The letter is addressed to a man named Mr. Nadeau, who had written to E.B.White, expressing his loss of faith in humanity. I understand exactly where he was coming from, but I can also understand E.B. White’s heartfelt response, copied out below.
In the end, it’s right to wind the clock nonetheless, to hang on to your hat, to hang on to your hope. Why? Because integrity and compassion are still very much alive.
North Brooklin, Maine
30 March 1973
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,
[Signed, ‘E. B. White’]
E.B. White with his grandson - from Letters of E.B.White collected and edited by Dorothy Lobrano Guth.