Radical: What if We Were Nice to Each Other?
Shut up for a moment and let me tell you a tale. No, don't say you've heard it before, I believe you haven't. Just let this old cat ramble to the end and then we can have a discussion.
Once upon a time, there were two siblings named Grete and Hans. Or Little Grete and Little Hans, as everybody called them. Their family was very poor and the economy was in recession, so on a sad, sad day their parents decided they had to get rid of them. Yep, when you don't have any sort of safety network around you, that might be your only option. Or maybe they were terrible parents, the story doesn't say. I'm just trying not to judge until I have a reason to.
So, one day, the dad took Hansel and Gretel to play in the forest nearby and, while they were distracted, sneaked away and left the children to their fate. As soon as they realised this, Hansel, who was the youngest, started crying.
"Did Dad abandon us?"
"Of course not", said Gretel, who was not at all sure of that and also wanted to cry herself, but she couldn't because she was the oldest. "Something must have happened, but we can find your way. See, here's the path!"
Unfortunately for the siblings, the path Gretel had found was not at all the one they had come from, and so after an hour of walking they found themselves deep in the forest. The air was flooded in emerald light, in which golden pollen floated. Berries and mushroom in all colours of the rainbow peeked from underneath bushes and grasses.
"This was not the right road", bawled Hansel.
"It was not", agreed Gretel, "but hey, this road must get somewhere too: people don't build roads just because".
That was a good point. If you don't believe in the Fae, that is, but there are no Fae in this story. So the children kept walking, and in the end they came to the strangest place they'd ever seen.
In front of them stood an adorable cottage made of gingerbread and candies, with all it's stained glass windows shining warm and bright. Behind it there were more similar cottages, but those were dark and in a state of disrepair. The wind carried a spicy and sugary smell and Hansel and Grete suddenly realised just how hungry they were. They tiptoed to the cottage's back and found a place where they could break off pieces of biscuit. They were eating with gusto when they suddenly heard a voice behind them:
"Hey there! Don't eat that gingerbread, it's old and has been out in the weather. Come in instead, I've just made lasagne!"
Hansel and Gretel turned around to see a plump old lady with a pointy hat and an apron stained with all sorts of jams and sauces. They paused for a minute. Their parents had of course told them not to take candy from strangers... but their parents had also just dumped them in the middle of the forest and night was coming fast, so the kids figured they had little to lose, and followed the witch inside. They were made to sit at the table in a kitchen full of steam and chintz, and soon the most magnificent tray of lasagne appeared in front of them. It was a delightful dinner, and the witch told them how her village used to be a thriving community of witchy bakers, but got abandoned as people fled the countryside to work longer and longer hours in the city. She was the only one remaining and she still baked every day, but all food always ended up going to the raccoons. By the end of the meal it had gotten very late, so Hansel and Gretel slept on the witch's sofa-bed, and awoke the following morning to countless birds chirping and the smell of freshly baked cookies. The witch showed them how to get back to the city and send them on their way with the leftover lasagne and a basket full of pastry.
The parents were surprised to see their children back, but because they had brought enough food for a couple of days they didn't ask too many questions. Anyway, the economy wasn't giving any signs of recovery, and so a few days later the couple faced the same, terrible decision and landed on the same, terrible answer. Mom took Hansel and Gretel to the forest and abandoned them at the first opportunity.
"Mom and Dad don't love us anymore!" cried Hansel.
"Come on, it must be some sort of mistake", Gretel comforted him. She was even less sure this time, but she was not worried: at least now she knew of to get to the gingerbread cottage!
The witch was delighted to see them again.
"Come in, come in! Today it's chicken nuggets!"
And so Hansel and Gretel stuffed themselves with crispy chicken nuggets and perfectly golden baked potatoes, and were sent home the day after with a doggy bag for their parents.
The third time the parents proposed to go to the woods, the children were very sceptical, but what could they do? Kids aren't given much agency in this world, especially not against their own parents. Into the forest they went, and despite trying as hard as they could to not get fooled again, they found themselves alone in the usual spot.
This time, when she opened the door, the witch was surprised.
"What are your parents doing, loosing you in the wilderness like this! Besides, what were you doing out there anyway? Don't you have school or something?"
"We can't afford school, after the public one closed", said Hansel.
"Dad had to use our college fund to cover for a payday loan", explained Gretel. "But now I think they can't afford to have us at all."
"But you said they didn't abandon us!" screamed Hansel, and was promptly hauled into the kitchen and silenced with pumpkin pie.
"Why don't you stay here with me?" asked the witch, after they had all enjoyed several slices. "I'm getting old and tired and some days feel so very lonely. And you could help me file my taxes online, I can't keep up with all this technological nonsense!"
"I could restore one of these houses and open a restaurant!" said Hansel, who had just decided he wanted to be a chef.
"And I could help you both with accounting and social media!" said Gretel, who loved math and computers.
And so it was. Together, the trio managed to restore the abandoned village and attract a handful of artists, artisans and people who were simply tired of living in the city. The social media accounts managed by Gretel became among the most popular in the country, and even the Queen visited the village at some point. She left a nice "Best Chef of the Queendom" ribbon for Hansel, which he displayed over the counter. When the old witch passed into the next world, she left behind a thriving community of people with a sense of belonging and purpose. Some say that this had been her plan all along.
Alright, so, where am I going with this? Well, I've just been thinking about our world, and our way of living. I'm not someone who dreams about the past, because the past was never better than our present, but there is one thing we used to have and we have lost: the sense of community. The sense of belonging, of having a place in the world, of being a part of something bigger. The knowledge that we would take care of each other, and that if trouble came we would all rise to the challenge, together. Again, I'm not deluded: I know that even in the past people had their rivalries and petty feuds. Still, there was a sense that you had to take care of your neighbours and, as a result, that the village would stick together through adversity. In fact, the village had to stick together, or they would succumb to those adversities. Life was harder back then. Simpler, maybe, but harder. But perhaps the downside of living easier and safer lives is that we think we can live them completely on our own. Each of us is an island, skin to skin with a million other islands and yet unreachable. What if we could change that?
I'm not suggesting literally taking candy from strangers; we still need our self-preservation instinct. But wouldn't it be nice to trust our neighbours? To be all watching out and rooting for each other, have our kids be born in a circle of friends, instead of relying on their parents only? We all know the trope of the small town where everyone knows and trusts each other, but I don't know how many of us have experienced it in real life. The News keep shrieking that we're all one step away from the monster of the week. Pundits idolise self-made men that never existed and proclaim that asking for help is for socialists (and you don't want to be A SOCIALIST!!1). "Tradition" demands families barricade behind their white fences, lest their kids come into contact with different people (aka every monster of the week seen on the news). We work until late, then come home and give out a few "likes" while doomscrolling, the only form of interaction our tired and overwhelmed brains can handle, then we wonder what we're living for.
Well, it's always possible to find something to live for. You don't even have to get off social media: I know it's hard, and I know even social media can give us something of value, if we use it instead of being used by it. Start by leaving a comment instead of a "like". Even better, if the poster is a friend, use their post as a pretext for a phone call and let them hear your voice in real time. I did it, and that's what my friend said when she picked up:
"I've been hoping for so long that someone would call instead of messaging, but we're all so busy I didn't dare asking".
Go introduce yourself to the people next door and tell them to stop by if they need anything. If they seem diffident, maybe they just need some time. We don't need to wait for raiding militias to let our neighbours know we stand by them. If we all become the witch that gives away lasagna and expect nothing in return, in the end everyone will have free lasagna. Isn't that great?