Weary

Weary
Photo by Claudio Schwarz / Unsplash

It’s “Father’s Day” in the UK today. I have mixed feelings about it – knowing that it was invented in the US along with “Mother’s Day” in the early 1900s (Mother’s Day pre-dates Father’s Day by a couple of years, if you are at all interested). They were both instigated by social activists.

I kind of rationalise it in the same way you might rationalise Christmas, or Easter – it’s as good excuse as any to be nice, no matter your beliefs, culture, or whatever else. We’ll also try to forget that people should be nice to each other all year round, too.

Given the accelerated and demanding nature of the modern world, it seems easy to drown in our own concerns, and ignore the concerns of others. It takes very little effort to show an interest – to lend an ear, a shoulder, a hand, or some time – and yet I’m continually surprised by the self absorbed, pious, sanctimonious and judgemental attitude so many seem to exhibit.

People become lost in their own importance, their own opinions, and presume their views are the only valid ones – and don’t mind telling anybody that might listen. For many, “but the majority agree with me” becomes a primary defence when challenged.

It doesn’t help that social media and the algorithmic timeline convince so many that they are in the majority, when the machinery of the internet is surrounding people with concordant views and opinions, no matter how true, false, misguided, hateful or objectionable they might be.

In recent weeks and months I’ve been reminded again and again of a cartoon I saw – of somebody hunched over a laptop in the dark, telling their other half “I’ll be up in a bit – I just need to explain to these people why they are wrong”.

Anyway.

All seems to be quiet on the western front. I imagine a voice will shout “Dinner!” soon.

Happy Father’s Day.

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