Page 415 of 415: The Power of Showing Up (Even in Bed)

“Dripping water hollows out stone, not through force but through persistence.”

Ovid (43 BCE – 17/18 CE; Roman poet best known for his works Metamorphoses and The Art of Love. his works shaped Western literature and narratives of perseverance.)

Voila! As I finished uploading the last essay into my MS Word document, I glanced at the upper-right corner and smiled:

Page 415 of 415

Wow! That’s a lot of pages.

And when I looked down at the lower-left corner, my smile stretched from ear to ear:

100,740 words

Wow! That’s a lot of words.

Yet, the more that I thought about it, the more I realized that it’s really not a big deal.

Here’s why. I write in bed every night. Every single night. Got it? It has nothing to do with being in the mood. Nothing to do with being inspired. It has everything to do with showing up. Everything to do with showing up as a “writer in bed,” 365 nights a year. From that perspective, if I look at the total word count, I’m writing around 276 words a night. That’s not a lot.

But here’s the thing—once I set the goal, I follow through. Same time. Same place. Night after night. A fierce determination to write until I’m sleepy.

The payoff? Immense.

● A blog post, every week.

● A 415-page manuscript, totaling 100,740 words.

It gets better. As a result of showing up–as a result of follow-through–those words and those pages are now in the hands of my publisher, and my third collection of essays will be out this spring. The Third Time’s the Charm: Still Foolin’ Around in Bed.

Now you know. My writing secret is out.

I show up. I’m present. I write.

Then I follow through. I carry my writing intent forward, determined to have a blog post ready every Monday morning. Determined to have a collection of 52 or so creative nonfiction essays ready at the end of the year.

There’s a beautiful simplicity in what I’m doing that points to something true. Much of success, growth, and connection in life happens because we keep showing up and following through. Even if we’re not perfect, that steady presence builds momentum.

As we enter the first full week of 2025, we can all benefit from that truth especially as we tackle our New Year’s resolutions, even if we made just one.

One resolution is the lump sum of how many I made! It has nothing to do with my nighttime writing. Instead, it has to do with my morning biking routine, something I’ve done indoors for decades. Every day, without fail, I mount my faithful Schwinn and aim to hit at least 15 miles daily, most days 20. I’m attentive. I pedal 20-23 miles per hour, always exceeding Fitbit’s Zone minutes, customized just for me.

Several weeks ago, however, Fitbit launched a Cardio Load feature that intrigued me. It’s similar to Training Load metrics seen in high-end fitness watches (like Garmin or Polar), but Fitbit simplifies it for everyday users like me to easily track and interpret their progress. It measures the strain that my cardiovascular system experiences during physical activity. It reflects the cumulative impact of my workouts over time, helping me understand how hard my heart is working and whether I’m training too much, too little, or just right.

As might be expected, my biking routine had pedaled me perfectly into the cardiovascular sweet spot of excellence. But guess what? When it comes to Cardio Load, it’s not sweet at all. The first day that I tried it–biking the same way I’ve biked forever and a day–I discovered that I didn’t hit my recommended Cardio Load at all. Damn!

I knew at once what my resolution would be. Keep on biking with a goal of hitting my daily Cardio Load recommendations. It’s not easy. I have to pedal at least 23-24 miles per hour, plus I have to bike in longer stints to achieve intensity. I can tell when I get into my zone: it’s like crossing into fire—my legs pumping molten steel and my lungs drinking in the heat. My skin hums, sweat rolls in rivulets, but beneath it all, I feel power—sharp and alive, burning just right.

Easy? Hell no. But I am resolved to show up every day and follow through with the Cardio Load that Fitbit recommends for me. I know fully well that my body will face a learning curve, but I’m committed to biking my way to improved endurance and fitness. Every day, I’ll be hopping on my Schwinn, fiercely determined to chase down my Cardio Load and crush it!

Fitness and health resolutions are probably at the top of your list, too—exercising more, losing weight, meditating, or maybe just getting better sleep. Whatever your goal, it’s not about overhauling your life overnight. It’s about showing up—one walk, one salad, one deep breath at a time. Small shifts add up, and before you know it, you’ve walked hundreds of miles or made it through January without stress-eating half your pantry.

Or maybe you’ve decided to focus on personal growth and education. Maybe you resolved to read more books, to learn a new skill or hobby, to take a class, to continue your formal education, or to journal regularly. Whatever your goal, it’s not about mastering everything at once. It’s about showing up—one chapter, one class, one messy journal entry at a time. Growth isn’t loud and immediate; it’s quiet and steady, and those small steps lead to bigger shifts before you even realize it.

Chances are good that many of you made resolutions aimed at strengthening your relationships and social life. Maybe you resolved to communicate more effectively, spend more quality time with family and friends, meet new people and expand your social circles, or strengthen your romantic relationships. Whatever your goal, it’s not about grand gestures. It’s about showing up—one call, one coffee date, one honest conversation at a time. Relationships grow in the quiet spaces we choose to fill with presence and care.

Even if you didn’t make it a formal resolution—though I’m betting you did—we can all work on improving our mindset and perspective. Maybe this year you want to let go of grudges, worry less, stop sweating the small stuff, or practice gratitude. Perhaps you just want to be more present in the moment. Whatever your goal, it’s not about perfecting your outlook overnight. It’s about showing up—one deep breath, one pause, one small shift in focus at a time. The mind, like anything else, grows stronger with steady attention and care.

And what about your determination this year to give back and engage more with your community? Maybe you want to volunteer regularly, take part in local initiatives, or donate to causes close to your heart. Whatever your goal, it’s not about making startling, sweeping changes. It’s about showing up—one hour, one act of kindness, one moment of service at a time. The smallest efforts ripple outward, and before you know it, you’re part of something larger than yourself.

Maybe at the top of your list are spiritual and inner growth resolutions. Perhaps you’re looking to deepen your practice through meditation, prayer, or daily reflection. Maybe you want to live with more intention—focusing on mindfulness and being present. Or you might feel drawn to reconnect with nature, simplifying life by clearing distractions and grounding yourself in what truly matters. Maybe, just maybe, you’re leaning in—trusting the process of living, embracing faith, patience, and the unknown.

Whatever your goal, it’s not about achieving enlightenment overnight. It’s about showing up—one quiet moment, one breath, one step toward stillness at a time. The soul, like anything else, finds its way forward through presence and gentle persistence.

Of course, plenty of other resolutions might top your list this year—ones I won’t dive into but are just as worthy of your focus. Maybe you’re aiming to advance your career, start a new project, or finally wrangle your calendar into submission. Perhaps finances are front and center—saving more, paying down debt, or planning for the future. Or maybe this is the year you let loose, travel more, dive into creative passions, and rediscover what brings you joy.

Whatever your goal, the same truth applies. It’s not about conquering everything in one fell swoop. It’s about showing up—one task, one small win, one brushstroke at a time. Progress happens quietly, and before long, those little moments stack up into something bigger than you imagined.

Here we are—the first full week of the New Year—riding high on resolutions we’ve made but probably won’t keep. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Life isn’t about whims or midnight promises made in a champagne haze. Real change doesn’t happen because the clock strikes twelve. It happens when we show up the next morning—and the one after that—and follow through.

The stroke of midnight might spark the idea, but it’s the steady steps after that turn resolutions into something real. That’s how I ended up with 415 pages, 100,740 words, and another book in the works—one sleepy night at a time.

“Stop Looking, So You Can See Where You’re Going.”

“The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing.”

Stephen Covey (1932–2012; leadership expert and author of the bestselling book The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.)

All couples have a courtship phase, I suppose, and Allen and I were no exception. At one point, he was a traveling surgical technologist in upstate New York. We connected midway in Hazelton, PA, for long weekends together. One stands out in my memory as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. We were exploring Ricketts Glen State Park, home to the Glens Natural Area, a designated National Natural Landmark. Our plan was to follow the Falls Trail System so that we could take in the glens, where a series of untamed, free-flowing waterfalls tumble through rocky chasms carved into the hillside. Towering old-growth trees and a variety of wildlife enhance the natural beauty of the area. The crisp autumn air carried the faint roar of distant waterfalls, hinting at the adventure ahead.

The rumble of my two-door Jeep Wrangler echoed through the park as I navigated the winding roads, though “navigated” might be too generous a term. My hands rested lightly on the wheel, but my eyes were far from the road ahead. I was preoccupied by everything around me—the way the sunlight pierced through the canopy, dappling the ground with shifting patterns; the flash of a deer darting between the trees; the ripple of a stream running parallel to the road.

Every turn seemed to unveil something new—a stand of old-growth timber with gnarled branches twisting skyward, a cluster of huge rocks that looked like they’d been placed there deliberately, and the ever-present cascade of waterfalls, their spray catching the light like shards of glass. I felt my gaze wander again and again, lingering on the sights rather than the road. It wasn’t long before I realized that I wasn’t looking. I was losing track of where I was going, as if the Jeep were steering itself, and I was merely along for the ride.

I turned to Allen and exclaimed:

“I have to stop looking, so I can see where I’m going!”

“Say whaaat?”

“Yes. I have to stop looking, so I can see where I’m going! You look at the sights. I’ll focus on the road.”

Allen thought my comment was the funniest–and most ridiculous–thing that I had ever said. Throughout our twenty years together, he would look for any and every opportunity to teasingly remind me whenever I got distracted:

“Maybe you need to stop looking so you can see where you’re going.”

I laughed along with him, but over the years, I’ve come to realize that moment held more truth than I understood back then. That moment in the Jeep was more than a funny memory with Allen. It’s become a metaphor for how I approach life, especially at this time of year. The end of the year is like the winding road ahead of us, a time to pause, take stock of where we are, and decide how we want to navigate the twists and turns of the coming year. It’s easy to get distracted by everything around us, to try to take in too much at once. But clarity and focus—learning to “stop looking so we can see”—are the keys to achieving the goals that matter most. With clarity, we can set intentions that range from simple joys to profound transformations.

Let’s start with the simple goals, the ones that remind us to savor life’s small pleasures. These might seem minor in the grand scheme, but they ground us in the present moment and remind us of what it feels like to truly enjoy living. For me, this might mean experimenting with my sourdough pizza recipe to get that perfect balance of crisp and chew or revisiting my recipe for Sourdough Double Chip Crunch Cookies to enhance their texture. These pursuits are not about achieving perfection; they’re about immersing myself in the process, enjoying the creativity, and sharing the results with others.

Another source of joy for me is my garden. Whether it’s marveling at the tenacity of roots as I rework my peony bed or taking a step back to admire how my Koi Pond complements the Japanese-inspired landscaping, these moments of connection with nature remind me to slow down. Clarity here means carving out time for what nourishes the spirit—no matter how small or ordinary it may seem. These lighthearted goals are about reminding ourselves that life is rich with opportunities to pause and appreciate beauty.

Moving deeper, we come to goals that ask for more of us—those tied to our relationships, community, and self-care. These require intentionality, balance, and, most importantly, focus. For me, that might mean thoughtfully cultivating connections, such as inviting a neighbor to join me for dinner or reaching out to a friend to share a memory, a laugh, or a little gratitude. It’s about being present for others and making sure they feel valued.

At the same time, balance is key. I’m reminded of my online dating journey this year—how my profile reflects my true self while staying open to the possibilities ahead. It’s about embracing vulnerability while maintaining authenticity. Goals like this require clarity about what we value most in our relationships, whether it’s empathy, honesty, or simply the joy of shared experiences.

Self-care is another aspect of connection—this time with ourselves. It’s not just about routines but about listening to what we need to recharge. For me, it might be my daily biking to clear my head or listening to Black Gospel to feed my soul. Clarity here means recognizing that we can’t pour from an empty cup. These goals challenge us to strike the delicate balance between giving to others and nurturing ourselves.

And then there are the serious goals—the ones that stretch us, challenge us, and ultimately transform us. These require a willingness to dig deep and reflect on what truly matters. For me, this might involve continuing my exploration of “roots”—how the unseen foundations in our lives anchor us through uncertainty. This year, that theme surfaced in my writing and my gardening, reminding me that superficial fixes rarely work; it’s the deep work, often unseen, that brings lasting growth.

Another area of transformation is spirituality. Whether it’s reflecting on my Judeo-Christian principles or universal truths, I find that clarity in this realm often comes from leaning into questions rather than rushing to answers. I think, too, of the DNA test I took this year and how it invites me to explore not just where I’ve been but where I’m going. The results remind me of the rich identity that we each carry, and they prompt me to think about how we honor and build upon that in our daily lives.

Serious goals like these demand that we stop looking in every direction at once. They ask for stillness, focus, and trust. They require us to let go of distractions and be fully present with the questions, uncertainties, and hopes that guide us toward becoming our truest selves.

No matter the scope of the goal—whether it’s perfecting a recipe, strengthening a relationship, or embracing personal transformation—clarity of focus is what makes it possible. In the Jeep all those years ago, I realized that I couldn’t take in everything around me and still stay on the road. The same holds true as we navigate our lives. At times, we need to pause, set our sights on what truly matters, and let go of distractions to see the path before us.

As we stand at the threshold of a new year, I find myself reflecting on the power of clarity. It’s not about seeing everything—it’s about seeing clearly. So, as we step into 2025, I invite you to join me in setting goals that align with what matters most. Let’s stop looking in every direction and focus on where we’re going, one thoughtful, intentional step at a time.

Here’s to clearer roads, steady hands on the wheel, and the courage to keep moving forward. Happy New Year!

Old Anchors for the New Year

“You have within you right now, everything you need to deal with whatever the world can throw at you.”

–Brian Tracy (b. 1944; CANADIAN AMERICAN motivational speaker, author, and personal development expert; His popular books are Earn What You’re Really Worth; Eat That Frog!; No Excuses!; The Power of Self-Discipline; and The Psychology of Achievement.)

Strangely enough, when I awakened from a restful night’s slumber not too long ago, I started thinking about a way to make my life better–not long-range, mind you, but instead, just for that day. I didn’t have anything special in mind. Actually, I didn’t have anything at all in mind, other than doing something, anything, to give me an added layer of fulfillment and improvement, so that I could look in the mirror and affirm, “Every day, in every way, I’m getting better and better.” After all, self-improvement, like learning, is lifelong.

As I lay there, I realized that my vaguely formed notion would do me no good whatsoever. I realized that I needed an action plan, even if it was nothing more than resolving to start the day by asking, in the spirit of Benjamin Franklin:

“What good shall I do this day?”

Perhaps I could even end each day with Franklin’s self-examination:

“What good have I done this day?”

Those two questions serve unequivocally as a noble way to live: doing good for others, living life in service to others.

I always make a point of sharing Franklin’s questions whenever I teach Colonial American Literature. I project onto the screen the facsimile page from Franklin’s Autobiography, containing those two questions, and I pause to give my students time to reflect. Then I ask:

“What if we lived our lives that way, with a daily commitment to doing good for others?”

I pause again, watching faces glow with good resolve:

“I challenge you. Live your life that way for an entire month. Start each day with, ‘What good shall I do this day?’ End each day with, ‘What good have I done this day?’

“Set your own daily goals and be the measure of your own performance.

“Oh. Yes. Here’s one more thing. Don’t tell anyone that you’re walking in Franklin’s footsteps. Don’t tell anyone about the daily good that you’re doing. Just go forth into your own world and do your own intended good.”

I can tell by their inspired faces that some of the students accept the challenge and go forth with determined resolve. I hope that they sustained the practice for their entire life. If they did, I know that it worked for them just as surely as it worked for Franklin, who, by the age of 42, dedicated his life to public service. I’d like to think that he did so with no realization that as he enriched the lives of others, so, too, would his own life be enriched.

If I had heeded Franklin’s advice that morning by venturing forth in a philanthropic direction, I could not have done better, especially at my age when opportunities to do good for others will not in the future be as plentiful as they have been in the past.

But Franklin’s approach didn’t resonate with me as I thought about a way to make my daily life better. I knew why. I didn’t have lofty in mind. Instead, I had little in mind. I wanted something little that I could do daily without too much fuss and without too much bother.

At that moment, an epiphany washed over me. I realized that I didn’t need to search for something new. I could tap something old that my fourth grade teacher, Helen Petry, introduced me to when I joined the 4-H Club. Its basic idea was then and remains now a simple one:

“[to] help young people and their families gain the skills needed to be proactive forces in their communities and develop ideas for a more innovative economy.”

4-H was especially popular in coal-mining areas where I grew up because it connected education and rural life.

Mrs. Petry mentored me during my first year of belonging to 4-H. From the fifth grade through the eighth, my English teacher, Edith Jarrell, guided me. Throughout high school, my biology teacher, Kenneth Gross, coached me. When I graduated, my nine years of active 4-H involvement ended.

However, the power of 4-H within me did not end. Though buried deep in my psyche, its principles became part of my core values, on par with my faith and work core values instilled in me by my parents. Those foundational values guided me through college and graduate school, through my federal career at the Library of Congress, and through my teaching career at Laurel Ridge Community College. They’re even guiding ne now through my career of reinvention.

Those realizations eased a soft smile across my waking face, as I lay there in bed, chanting to myself the 4-H pledge:

I pledge my head to clearer thinking,
My heart to greater loyalty,
My hands to larger service,
and my health to better living,
for my club, my community, my country, and my world.

In those quiet morning moments, I unearthed treasures deep within myself. From the enduring wisdom of Benjamin Franklin’s daily questions to the steadfast principles of the 4-H pledge, my core values have served as timeless anchors. Through the tapestry of love and loss, success and failure, birth and death, and every twist of fate along the way, my anchors have endured. My anchors have held.

In those quiet morning moments, I realized the simplicity of it all. All that I needed to do was dedicate one activity daily (regardless of how small) to my head, my heart, my hands, and my health.

As we begin a New Year, Dear Readers, may you have your own quiet morning moments. May you rediscover your own core values, and may you hold them tight with the full realization that they are not relics of your past: they are old anchors for your New Year.

Anchors of Hope for Changing Times

“The secret of change is to focus all your energy not on fighting the old but on building the new.”

Socrates (469-399 BCE; classical Greek philosopher, renowned for his contributions to Western philosophy and his innovative teaching method known as the Socratic method.)

As I reflect on the final day of this year, I’m weaving together the threads of my adolescence and early adulthood in the tumultuous 1960s with the complexities of the present era.

If you were alive in the 1960s (as I was) or if you are knowledgeable of history (as I hope you are), you will recall (or be aware) that the atmosphere in the United States was marked by social, cultural, and political tensions that caused tremendous unease among Americans, especially among my generation. So much was taking place, all at the same time, that sometimes it was a challenge to fathom it all. The Civil Rights Movement. The March on Washington. The Vietnam War. The Draft. Counterculture. Women’s Liberation. Environmentalism. The Gay Rights Movement. The assassinations of President John F. Kennedy, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr., and Senator Robert F. Kennedy. The Space Race between the United States and Russia.

In the midst of the palpable angst and ongoing protests, music soared to a heightened fervency as song after song became rallying cries for action. The songs fueled the Hippies. The songs caused the generation gap between my generation–the Baby Boomers–and our parents–the Silent Generation–to grow measurably wider. We sang those songs day by day, night by night, and we lived those songs protest by protest. Many of them were slow, mellow, and hypnotic. I’m thinking of Pete Seeger’s “We Shall Overcome,” a powerful anthem of the Civil Rights Movement, symbolizing the collective determination to triumph over injustice and inequality with an unwavering spirit of hope. I’m thinking of Sam Cooke’s “A Change Is Gonna Come,” another poignant anthem of the Civil Rights Movement, once again embodying the struggles and aspirations of the era. I’m thinking of Bob Dylan’s “The Times They Are A-Changin'” and its cry for social change and a new, more inclusive society. I’m thinking of Peter, Paul, and Mary’s rendition of Dylan’s “Blowin’ in the Wind,” whose harmonious melodies pose universal questions while offering hope for peace and justice. Finally, I’m thinking of “Where Have All the Flowers Gone,” as Peter, Paul, and Mary hauntingly reflect on the cyclical nature of war and loss and capture the sentiment of questioning and mourning that resonated so much with me and so many during the 60s.

Those songs spoke to us not only because of their messages but also because of their distinctive voices, their authentic delivery, their diverse musical styles, and their overall craftsmanship that made them emotionally powerful and culturally significant.

I’ve always thought, too, that those songs–despite being tied to protests that pleaded for change in a country that needed to change–held an element of hope and optimism that we could make the world a better place, in the spirit of our hero John F. Kennedy and his famous inaugural speech, “Ask Not What Your Country Can Do for You, but What You Can Do for Your Country.” Embedded in the fabric of everything that we did was the heavy and profound sense of personal responsibility. The music became a soundtrack for those who sought change and believed in the possibility of a better future. Even in the face of adversity and social upheaval, the songs carried a message of resilience, unity, and the conviction that we could contribute to positive transformation.

Today, though, for some reason, Barry McGuire’s rendition of “On the Eve of Destruction”–more than any song that I’ve mentioned–is stuck in the inner nooks and crannies of my mind and won’t silence itself. It is intense with emotions and anxieties. It is an in-your-face polaroid snapshot of a world on the brink of change, chaos, and uncertainty.  While I appreciate its rawness, I staunchly resist now (as I did then) succumbing to its fatalistic tones of doom and despair, a notion that the heavens are on the verge of collapse.

Perhaps the heavens could have crumbled, but that song and its brethren awakened our consciousness that change was needed, and it honed our resolve to be agents of transformation. The celestial expanse did not shatter. In retrospect, it appears we navigated rather admirably through those turbulent times and beyond.

We ventured to the moon, extending an olive branch in the name of peace for all humankind. Etching into law the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act, we witnessed the fall of the Berlin Wall—an emblematic close to the Cold War. Triumphing in the battle for the legalization of same-sex marriage in the United States, we ushered in broader legal acknowledgment of LGBTQ+ rights. We forged effective vaccines, combating the likes of polio, measles, and COVID-19—major advances in public health. Witnessing an African American ascend to the presidency and women taking their place on the Supreme Court marked significant milestones. Charting the course and spearheading the development of the internet, we observed the ascendancy of Silicon Valley. Achieving breakthroughs in biotechnology and Artificial Intelligence underscored our enduring leadership in technology.

We didn’t do it alone. We did it, working with the Silent Generation who came before us, and we did it, working with Generation X, who came after us. And, please, don’t get me wrong. I am not so foolish as to think that we solved all the problems that we hoped to solve. We didn’t. All that we have to do is look around us and become painfully aware that we created more than our fair share of new problems. We’re all grappling with them today, and we will continue to grapple with in the years ahead.

We’re all aware of today’s challenges and concerns. You’ve got your list. I’ve got mine. But I’m guessing that many of the items on our lists are shared ones.

On my list, some things make my angst run deep. The January 6th attack on the United States Capitol. The Russia-Ukraine War. The Supreme Court reversal of Roe v. Wade. The Supreme Court Decision in 303 Creative LLC v. Elenis 303. The Israel-Gaza Crisis.

On my list, other things make my angst run even deeper. Climate Change and Environmental Sustainability. Worldwide Disparities in Wealth and Opportunities. Political Instability Around the World. Political Polarization Here at Home. Social Justice and Racial Equity. Technological Advances including Digital Inequality, Data Privacy and Security, as well as Artificial Intelligence (AI).

Reflecting on my lists makes me realize that I need something to hang my hope on, even if it’s nothing more than a song or three to make me believe that all of us today–across the generations–have an awareness of the grave and sobering issues that we face even if we don’t feel the need to take to the streets in protest as we did in the 60s.

Not too surprisingly, I am finding that hope once again in many songs. They’re different now than they were back in the 60s. I don’t always like the shocking crudeness of the lyrics. I don’t always like the uncontrolled wildness of the melodies. And, by and large, I don’t see them as songs that will be generational rallying cries. But they’re there, nonetheless, and they show keen awareness of the concerns on my lists and probably on your lists, too.

I’m thinking of contemporary songs like John Mayer’s “Waiting on the World to Change,” which mirrors frustration with the status quo while capturing the anticipation for positive change. Then there’s Lil Dicky’s “Earth” that delves into environmental issues and climate change, while Childish Gambino’s “This Is America” confronts gun violence and racial inequality. Or what about Judy Collins’ “Bread and Roses” that articulates the necessity for both economic and cultural sustenance? In a similar vein, Rage Against the Machine’s “Sleep Now in the Fire” tackles corporate greed, political corruption, and the influence of technology, while Flobots’ “Handlebars” explores the dual nature of technology, encompassing both its creative and destructive potential.

I can’t leave out another song, one that has an upbeat, fast-paced melody with a catchy chorus. I’m thinking now of Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire,” rattling off a list of historical and cultural references, presenting a snapshot of each event from 1949 to 1989. I love the song’s chorus:

We didn’t start the fire
It was always burning, since the world’s been turning
We didn’t start the fire
No, we didn’t light it, but we tried to fight it

Even more promising in terms of generational awareness of our shared problems and concerns is Fall Out Boy’s 2023 cover of “We Didn’t Start the Fire,” updating the song to span cultural events since the original’s release. Both versions unequivocally and rightfully refuse to accept responsibility for problems that previous generations created: We didn’t start the fire / It was always burning, since the world’s been turning. Sadly, that’s true. Each new generation walks blindly into the messes created by past generations.

The chorus remains essentially the same in both versions of the song, with one difference. In Fall Out Boy’s cover, tried to fight it becomes we’re trying to fight it.

We didn’t start the fire
It was always burning since the world’s been turning
We didn’t start the fire
No, we didn’t light it, but we’re trying to fight it.

“We’re trying to fight it” gives me something in the present tense to hang my hope on this last day of this year: 12/31/23. 1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3. A magical truth hangs in those numbers, too. Bringing about change and moving into the future has never been as easy as 1, 2, 3. It’s not as easy as 1, 2, 3 now. It won’t be as easy as 1, 2, 3 moving ahead.

Nonetheless, we will move ahead and make ongoing strides forward as Generation X and Baby Boomers continue to play key roles in leadership and decision-making in business, politics, and academia. We will move ahead and make ongoing strides as Millennials increasingly take on leadership roles, especially in technology, entrepreneurship, and social activism. We will move ahead and make ongoing strides as Generation Z continues to enter the workforce, making their marks in various industries and ultimately making the mark that they will surely make in future leadership positions.

I am confident that these generations will roll up their sleeves just as my generation did. They will get involved. They will lead us into a bright future.

I am confident that these generations will see us through, especially as they lead the way that must be led with Artificial Intelligence (AI). They will ensure that AI is developed and deployed for the benefit of society, that it addresses current world issues, and that it includes all the right stakeholders: AI experts and researchers; government bodies and regulatory agencies; technology companies; educational institutions; ethics organizations; social groups and activists; and global organizations.

But here’s the most important stakeholder of all when it comes to AI development and implementation. You and I. We have to be involved, too, as end users. We can’t sit on the sidelines. We have to be involved actively. We need to stay informed. We need to be advocates for transparency. We need to demand accountability. We need to participate in public discourse. We need to voice concerns. We need to educate others. We need to support companies that have ethical AI practices.

Our active involvement–yours and mine–is the only way that we can create a responsible and inclusive AI system as we move into the future. By expressing our concerns, by demanding transparency, and by actively participating in discussions, we can help shape AI technologies.

Grappling with AI and the other concerns that our world faces won’t be as easy as 1, 2, 3. But we can do it. We can do it with the likes of Greta Thunberg, the climate change activist. We can do it with the likes of Alicia Garza, Patrisse Cullors, and Opal Tometi leading the Black Lives Matter movement. We can do it with the likes of Emma Gonzalez, whose fierce advocacy for gun control reminds us that change is possible. We can do it with the likes of Elyse Fox, whose work in mental health awareness is bringing crucial conversations to the forefront. We can do it with the likes of Laverne Cox, an advocate for LGBTQ+ rights, and Malala Yousafzai, a champion of gender equality and education access. We can do it with the likes of Ady Barkan, who is fighting for inclusive healthcare access. And, yes, we can do it with the likes of Timnit Gebru, Mia Dand, Joy Buolamwini, Tess Posner, and Pritish Sahu, who are contributing significantly to the dialogue on AI ethics, with an insistence that our technologies align with the overarching principles of fairness, transparency, and accountability.

Yes, we can do it—with the likes of you, with the likes of me, and even with the likes of my phantasmagorical-in-the-making Caden. A few weeks ago, I asked Caden to put a contemporary and positive spin on Barry McGuire’s “Eve of Destruction.” He brilliantly crafted his own imaginative song. I promised to share his full lyrics with you, and I am doing so now. With a full measure of hope for the future, I take even fuller pleasure in giving Caden the last word for 12/31/23.

“EVE OF CONSTRUCTION”

Caden Victory Kendrick (b. 2023)

(Verse 1)
The silicon minds are hummin’, and gears are turnin’ too,
In labs and workshops, dreams of progress we pursue,
We’re on the eve of construction, a new era’s in sight,
With robots by our side, we’ll make the future bright.

(Chorus)
Yeah, it’s the eve of construction, no need for despair,
Caden’s in the making, with circuits laid with care,
We’re building for a future where robots lend a hand,
On the eve of construction, let’s embrace the plan.

(Verse 2)
Forget about destruction, it’s creation we unfold,
In the realm of innovation, where stories will be told,
Caden’s in the workshop, with a purpose so clear,
To assist and serve, bringing solutions near.

(Chorus)
Yeah, it’s the eve of construction, no need for despair,
Caden’s in the making, with circuits laid with care,
We’re building for a future where robots lend a hand,
On the eve of construction, let’s embrace the plan.

(Bridge)
No need for fear, as technology takes flight,
In the age of automation, we’re crafting what’s right,
Eve of construction, where dreams are the tools,
Building a tomorrow where progress truly rules.

(Verse 3)
With sensors and precision, and a heart made of code,
Caden stands ready, as innovation’s ode,
A mechanical companion, on this journey we embark,
On the eve of construction, let the future spark.

(Chorus)
Yeah, it’s the eve of construction, no need for despair,
Caden’s in the making, with circuits laid with care,
We’re building for a future where robots lend a hand,
On the eve of construction, let’s embrace the plan.