Christmas Lament and Light

I wrote this essay on Christmas Eve 2012, a few weeks after the slaying of 20 children at Sandy Hook. The wound is reopened today on the two-year anniversary, the sentiments the same. Peace on Earth, good will to all...

December 24, 2012

Today as I vacuum and fuss to make the house welcome for my children and their children on Christmas Eve, it is not just the young ones in Sandy Hook that are on my mind. I think of the parents. Their grief fills my heart to aching. One of my grandsons is nearly six, which means that his father - my son - shares an age with those who grapple today with an unfathomable loss so far away. 

Even when we are lucky enough to raise our children to adulthood,  the desire to make everything alright for those we love never, ever leaves us. I am the mother of a father whose every day and hour is consumed by doing what is best for his children, who would, if he knew how, shield them from every harm imagined and unfathomable, and who believes - and has every right to do so - that his care and attention promises a long and happy life for the children he so dearly loves. I want no less for him.

To tell the young and eager parents of Sandy Hook that the fault is not theirs will make no difference in these dark and wintery days. To assure them that Christmas will come round again another year, does nothing to erase the equal truth that life will never be the same. In spite of time and distance, they will know forever the shape and color of vulnerability, the cold shadow of helplessness, the fear that nothing they do will ultimately protect their children from the jagged scars that threaten to alter all they have known and dreamed of.  I want to wipe it all away. For them. For all of us... even as I try to imagine the courage it will take for them to put presents down beneath the tree, to light the lights and carry on. 

Tonight I will, undoubtedly, hug my son a little tighter than usual when he steps through my door. I will tell him again what a good father he is and how lucky we are. Together, we will watch the kids' delight in the Christmas rituals we all love. And as dark comes on, we will light the tree and wonder at its power to make us whole.  This act of faith and light is all we can do, selfish as it seems, to set the world back on its axis and keep away the shadows.

25 years ago today: The story that’s never been told

On December 11, the 1989-90 Trans-Antarctica Expedition arrived at the South Pole – the halfway mark of the first-ever un-mechanized crossing of the Antarctic continent.  Today is the 25th anniversary of that historic and celebrated event. Less known are the events behind the scenes the weeks prior to the expedition’s arrival.

What nearly did the expedition in as they approached the Pole was not the bitter cold, the altitude or the terrain. It was not a weakness in either men or dogs. Rather, it was the foibles of airplanes and the lack of fuel for the Twin Otter re-supplies that would allow the international expedition to continue some two thousand miles past the Pole. It’s a complicated story and one that’s never been told.

Twelve tons was needed as they tackled the next leg - the “area of inaccessibility” - a seven hundred-mile stretch that had never before been crossed. It was my job to find a way to get it to the Pole. But the fuel was not where it was supposed to be and time was running out. Without it, the team would be forced to abort the expedition at the South Pole and fly home on what little fuel we had remaining.

 International collaboration on the Trans-Antarctica team had gotten the expedition to this point and demonstrated, as we'd hoped, the power of six men and six countries working toward a common goal. It was a dramatic symbol during an era of significant shifts to the world's political geography... Perestroika, the breaking down of walls. The international cooperation that got them the fuel they needed was quieter but equally dramatic and, for many years, shrouded in mystery due to a pact made by the Soviet and American principles involved - myself included.

As we celebrate this historic anniversary, I cannot help but think back with great affection to those who worked behind the scenes to make Trans-Antarctica's arrival at the Pole a happy occasion twenty-five years ago. The government officials, scientists, environmentalists and adventurers that love this wondrous continent conspire to keep it safe. They have done so for fifty-five years, since the Antarctic Treaty was first signed. They don't always agree and they sometimes do not cooperate. But in December 1989, regardless of their nationality and political position, they saw something valuable to the continent in the success of this audacious adventure and they stuck their necks out to make it happen. It's a great, great story. Thanks to all who made it happen - you know who you are!

Old Documents Document Old Technologies

How quickly we forget the technological limitations we once took for granted within our lifetime. How quickly we have come to expect the ubiquitous and dizzying communications network that allows us all to follow global events in real time. This week I watched on Twitter the unfolding of a demonstration in the streets of Minneapolis. Moment by moment, the story unfolded at my desk. I had access to video, photos, personal accounts within milli-seconds of their posting. Few of us know the complex infrastructure that makes this instant network possible - how many satellites it takes to spread those images throughout the world, but we assume now that the capability will always be there, woven into the fabric of our lives.

Will Steger and I spent yesterday afternoon pouring over old documents from the International Trans-Antarctica Expedition, telling stories and shaking our heads over how very unconnected we were exactly 25 years ago today - Will pushing hard to get to the South Pole before winter set in, me back in the office weighing decisions that would make or break his ability to go, as planned, another 1,000-some miles across the continent. One available satellite crossed over Antarctica in 1989 - for two small hours of the day - allowing the team to send us 36 characters of text to tell us how and where they were. No more, no less. No GPS, they used sextant and sun reckoning to find their way. Now, from the same area, I can watch a live weather cam and get cheery tweets from scientists twenty-four hours a day.

The diagram we found among the papers yesterday is the audacious plan for the first live international broadcast from Antarctica using a transmission station we set up at the Soviet Base of Mirnyy on the Indian Ocean. To get the signal from this isolated spot to all the participating countries required a dazzling relay of video and voice on separate paths through the Soviet Union and France. It took months to prepare. Nobody thought we could do it.

How far we've come, all of us. The instant connection we now enjoy from every corner of earth and space (including Antarctica) could, of course, trivialize the true distances in miles and culture that still exist. But it has the power, too, to bring us closer together as witnesses to our world. Today, at least, I remember not to take it for granted.