Years from now we will be able to take account of our personal histories and say we lived through this time. We will no doubt wear our survival on our sleeves. For some it will be something that we just don’t talk about. Others will whisper this history.

As a boomer, my parents experienced two colossal events, the depression and the second world war. My mom could give voice to the hardships she experienced in the great depression, my dad would never whisper a word about the war.

The depression left them hobbled, the war left them wounded and yet they fostered the era that I grew up in full of promise and prosperity.

They say It’s always darkest before the dawn, and that which does not kill us makes us stronger. These sentiments point to the end of the tunnel, but don’t provide much of a map for getting there. What I am finding is that the way out is to simply ask for a hand.

My last blog posting was from a very dark and fearful place, I felt very alone and wounded.

There were friends both old and new who reached out and reminded me of how resilient we are, how resilient I am. They assured me that no matter how battered and torn we feel, the way out is together.

e pluribus unum.