For Once, I Wasn't Sorry I Clicked on the Link

Sometimes my curiosity gets the better of me and I’m unable to ignore the social media notifications popping up on my phone. I often regret peering into a cesspool of zero civility where lying is de rigueur and cruelty is a competition that launches me into a despair that borders on rage. 

Even on "friendly" neighborhood apps, the local resident who hops on wondering about the smell of smoke is berated for being an idiot who doesn’t have Watch Duty, the app which notifies us of nearby fires. And God forbid someone asks about a big, loud boom but – horrors! – hasn’t checked the SpaceX page for the latest launch schedule. Ditto for those who can’t differentiate gunshots from fireworks when they wake us in the middle of the night. Then there are porch pirates making off with Amazon boxes, occasional car break-ins, and flocks of youth terrorizing the streets on motorized bikes, which brings into question the fitness of their parents. 

Perhaps the stars aligned, or the wind changed, or pixie dust was in the air, because one day, for a few brief moments, something was different. Rather than rolling my eyes and heaving deep disheartened sighs, my heart whispered hallelujah and beckoned me to harken the good news that appeared in a trinity of consecutive posts. Sometimes, good things really do come in threes. 

I clicked for the birds. Two baby great horned owlets in the neighborhood were captured on video spreading their wings and learning to fly. So fluffy and precious and determined, I want to pat them on their downy little heads.

Just below the fledglings, was a magazine-worthy photo. A picnic table in the park was all dressed up for a weekly cocktail/mocktail gathering launched a few months ago by a woman called Heather, whose heart clearly is in the right place. “Bring your best, kindest self and I hope you leave with a new friend and some joy,” she wrote. We need more Heathers in every neighborhood.

Beneath that was a refreshing good-news post about teen boys who’ve started a car washing business. They knocked on their neighbor’s door with supplies, a power washer, and fine manners, calling the OP’s* husband “sir” multiple times and shaking his hand at the end of their transaction. Their parents’ fitness was not called into question. 

In addition to that trifecta of close-to-home posts, my heart grew three sizes when I learned how Lawrence, Kansas, the college town where our youngest resides, has embraced the Algerian fútbol club, whose base camp is there during the FIFA World Cup matches played in nearby Kansas City. 

The trees down the main drag are twinkling in red, white and green lights, and restaurant and store windows are decorated as well. A prominent local artist created a gargantuan Algerian flag in a field, the University of Kansas marching band learned the Algerian national anthem, and locals have gathered in massive street parties to support the team.

The Algerians have been vocal in their appreciation of the loving embrace they’ve received in the Sunflower State. Indeed, the USA’s true spirit of hospitality has been on display in each of the cities hosting matches, sending a much-needed message to the world that our arms are wide open.  

Cute birds do give me the warm fuzzies – there’s an active nest in the wreath on the front door – but these human nature stories are a welcome bonus, and restore a bit of faith in humanity that is more than welcome. It brings to mind Mister Rogers, who implored us to “look for the helpers” in treacherous times. 

Sharing heartfelt and hopeful tales is indeed helpful. Bring ‘em on. Apparently, they’re out there for the taking. I need to be more proactive and seek them out as an antidote to the oozing venom, because sometimes my inquisitive mind makes me a glutton for punishment. I doomscroll and shake my head (or bang it against a wall) in disbelief over those bits of our world that are a colossal, appalling, putrid mess. 

To run away from reality is tempting, and affords short term relief, but it’s not an option for the long haul. Curiosity may have killed the proverbial cat, but without it there’s no scientific discovery, no investigative journalism, no meaningful human connection, and no truth. Even when I abhor the facts, I want to choose hope over despair. 

My inquiring mind compelled me to click on the notification about those cute, fuzzy birdies, and I was rewarded with stories that served as an unexpected card in the mail from a dear, treasured friend. 

I think I’ll go back for more. It’s the neighborly thing to do. 

 
*Original Poster