Emily’s Soliloquy from Act 3 in Thornton Wilder’s Our Town:
We don’t have time to look at one another.
I didn’t realize. All that was going on in life,
and we never noticed.
Take me back – up the hill – to my grave.
But first: Wait! One more look.
Good-by, Good-by, world.
Good-by, Grover’s Corners.
Mama and Papa.
Good-bye to clocks ticking.
And Mama’s sunflowers.
And food and coffee.
And new-ironed dresses and hot baths.
And sleeping and waking up.
Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful
for anybody to realize you.
Do any human beings ever realize life
while they live it? – every, every minute?
Stage Manager’s Response:
No. The saints and the poets, maybe they do some.
Emily’s soliloquy has been an overarching paradigm in my life ever since using it with students early in my teaching career. It’s served many purposes ranging from various literary themes, to the power of reflection for writing and life. I’ve used the example of the soliloquy often with others, thinking it was a secret recipe for seeing and appreciating the smaller aspects of our daily lives. But recently, as I approach the same age my Mother was, well into her widowhood, I understand that like Emily, I too am deficient with a necessary ingredient to fully appreciate my day to day being…an innate wisdom.
I subscribe to the adage that one can have knowledge without wisdom, but one can’t have wisdom without knowledge. Vivian Clayton, a neuropsychologist from the University of Chicago, cites three factors for breaking down wisdom: cognition, reflection and compassion. Entering my early 70’s has me thinking more of my mother’s life experiences when she was my age and the underappreciated wisdom and knowledge she had through her lived experiences, both in isolation and those shared with others.
In reflection I lament a missed opportunity; not only to appreciate my mother’s veiled wisdom, but also to get know each other more deeply and honestly. My mother lived to 94 and my father passed away at 66. She lived 26 years as a widow and over 20 years in the home she shared with my Dad until dementia progressed to the point of requiring assisted care. Living several hours away from her during those 20 years I perceived her life was one of isolation. I was in the middle of a professional career in public education focusing on the reading/writing experience and associated graduate work. My primary focus outside of work was resolving my own concerns that she was unhappy. In reality, she wasn’t, I just couldn’t see the small pleasures bringing her joy..
My visits to her generally consumed two hours of commuting time each way from several New Hampshire locales to her home on the south shore of Massachusetts. The greater part of those visits was spent on her back porch, an addition to the house that she and my father made, which seemed to become center of her universe. It was often drenched in sunshine, the warmth and light navigated a path through mature trees to the circular antique table that my father had nicely refurbished.
She talked of the garden she tended in the repurposed bocci court, the kindness of neighborly visits and the continuing upkeep and satisfaction of being in her own home. What I was hearing is she had a lot of work to do. Her calendar which hung on the side of a kitchen cabinet identified dates connecting with friends, day trips with the senior center, and reminders to be in touch with her siblings living throughout the country. Also filling lots of space…medical appointments. But who doesn’t have increasingly daunting medical checkins with primary care physicians, ophthalmologists, orthopedists, physical therapists and dentists as they enter their 70’s, 80’s and beyond?
The reality of those visits shared with my Mom still causes angst today. Reflecting back on those moments, I recall occasions when she was yearning for me to enjoy…observe more shared moments, along an affirmation, an acknowledgement that her life was one being well lived. Sadly, like those universally ignoring Emily’s discovered wisdom, mine has come too late too. I dwelled on the “to do lists’ (hers and mine) of my visits: minor home maintenance issues, some correspondence clarification, or bills for which she wanted assistance. Visits consisted of doing rather than sharing. Subsequently, I knew my Mother more as a Mom than a person. Why could I regularly advocate for Emily’s appeals with my students, but not unlock and share it with my Mother? I believe the answer is situated somewhere between that combination of knowledge and wisdom (cognition? compassion? reflection?) along with how much one allows daily distractions to dictate their life.
An emerging wisdom for me is better understanding how relationships can stagnate or devolve. If I want to see another person’s potential for a depth they can bring to my life, I need to look beyond what they are: Ed, the builder; Steve or Jean, educational colleagues; Bob, a coach; Tom or Paula, college professors; James, a doctor, etc., and include a means to better know who they are. The “what” falls into the clichés of life passing you by or missed opportunities. Even through increased awareness from sharing Our Town with over a 1,000 students and understanding its thematic life’s lessons, I failed to fully heed it with others in my life.
Now a grandfather and well beyond career ambitions, I appreciate my Mom’s aging challenges to a greater degree. In her wisdom she adjusted and was seemingly content. My two children are now in the striving stage of adult development; their distance from me is thousands of miles rather than a few hours drive; and they are steeped in distractions of daily life. My three teenage grandchildren arrive for joyful visits, but are reminders that generations along with the high-volume evolution of language and invention continue to cloud shared experiences. I see it now from the other side, from my Mother’s view of adult children and grandchildren.
Subconsciously, I believe my Mom was looking for an acknowledgement, that I didn’t provide. A recognition that she had wisdom to share; that she saw gratifying, ordinary activities in her daily life worth appreciating. In her own understated way, she was Emily asking me to ‘take one more look and realize all that was going on in life.’ In retrospect, I see more of what I missed several decades ago from failing look more thoughtfully at the people and world around me. I wonder what that means in the current accelerating, time compressed world.
People today chase affirmation and acknowledgement in a world of needing to keep up with AI technology, Many hunt for superficial likes, comments, and repostings on social media platforms. These types of affirmations can seem quite shallow and inconsequential. They don’t necessarily facilitate our ability to see the world or those close to us through a reflective lens that deepens our understanding of the other.
Acknowledgement doesn’t need to be out loud; it doesn’t need to be only for the accomplishments or challenges met in one’s life. It’s the connection, the knowing of one another as a human beings… more as “who they are” rather than “what they are”…or, what can casually be gleaned from photos, video clips, etc. Who they are requires more time spent in conversations, with curiosity and shared vulnerabilities. That is a path to a life well lived and greater sense of wisdom.