Desperately Seeking Good News...

I'm having that love/hate relationship with the news again. Last Thursday I found myself simultaneously glued to and repelled by the constant headlines that pinged onto my phone. That particular day's news included the horrific story of the killings in Nice, the release of the EHRC's report into the Labour Party, Bobby Ball's death, and then Jeremy Corbyn's suspension. All that was before I'd had my lunch. I found myself tweeting Too. Much. News. from my gut. It was visceral. I couldn't keep up.

A simpler time?

Since then I continue to be drawn into some news stories whilst recognising rabbit holes to avoid with others. It's become a dance. Clicking the comments under an opinion with which I agree, regularly proves reckless. Gingerly dipping my toe into the comments under an article, invariably means I must leap back and spin away when it descends into nonsense. Then there are news programmes. Watching a clip of a seemingly safe Newsnight segment, for example, can get me riled within seconds, and in the spirit of self-care, I continue to give Question Time a wide berth. (Although I'd argue that with no audience panto-booing when anyone speaks, a better level of debate is possible.) Every time an MP pops up to defend the indefensible (refusing to support free school meals over Christmas, for example) I'm both sickened by their stance, whilst fascinated that they think it, let alone choose to say it out loud. The news continues to mimic a drug after a lifetime of misuse. There are no more highs but you continue regardless. You don't know how not to. There's no upside and nothing feels good anymore.

It was all so different once. My first memory of a specific news story was on October 11th 1982. (Wikipedia has told me this. I only remember I was in Reception class.) By then I'd been in school for a month. That particular morning, the routine of hanging up my coat and sitting on the carpet waiting for the teacher was different. There was a TV in the room! Like at home but on tall wheels! Myself and the other four year olds were treated to breaking news: the raising of the Mary Rose ship as it was broadcast to the country. I had no clue about any of it, except it was clear the adults in the room were excited. It's my only memory of watching live news in school so it must have been important. 

It's so far removed from
Democrats v Republicans now. 

Whether it was important or not, isn't the issue. It wasn't gut wrenching. It wasn't disappointing in the way it was presented and it wasn't stressful. (Being four probably helped, tbh.) But that's what I'm missing now. I want at least some of the news I read to be non-stressful, and about events I'd be happy to recall at a later date. It's hard to find those stories amidst the current cacophony. Between COVID death rates, the imminent lockdown, the heartbreaking deaths of children at sea, and the refusal by some in power to recognise that children shouldn't starve, there's little room for anything else. There's not much good news around right now. The fact that it's the US election tomorrow, is doing nothing to calm my nerves. No matter what the polls say, anyone who remembers the sickening reality of 2016 cannot rely on the data. I'm keeping everything crossed for good to triumph over evil. What else can I do?

This is just the day job.

But look. This can't all be doom and gloom. Not really. As much as it feels like there's nothing positive to focus on, that's simply not true. Let me offer some evidence with two words. Marcus Rashford.

Full column by Marina Hyde here.
Perfect for government critics and football fans alike.

I couldn't tell you anything about Rashford's sporting achievements beyond the fact he plays footy. I'm sure he's marvellous but that's not what I'm obsessed with right now. It's his determination to use his platform for the benefit of others that's so hugely inspiring. How much easier must it be to go to training and then go home. How much simpler would his life be if he used Twitter to like memes, and share joke with his friends. Instead, he holds up a mirror to the government's cruelty, rallies a nation, coordinates UK-wide free school meal provision from restaurants and local councils, and finds the time to respond to children, that tweet him with news of their pocket money donations. His work with the charity FareShare prompted a surge in donations. His petition from earlier in the year continues to gather signatures. I am now at the age where my female peers don't announce secret crushes on a twenty-three year old man*, but instead comment that his mum must be so proud. And yeah, she must. Last week Marina Hyde wrote another blisteringly good column where she drew parallels between Rashford's and Johnson's experiences of being young twenty-somethings. I'm sure I don't need to give you a clue as to who came out best. Put simply, the man is a legend. A generation of kids who live in poverty will be fed over the school holidays. Their parents' worries will be eased a little because of his actions. What a wonderful legacy on top of his day job. 

After writing all that, and reading warming articles about the good deeds Rashford has inspired, I've found myself at a loss once more. A scroll through Twitter and the main news websites, looking for upbeat news and feel-good stories, draws a blank. It's been that kind of year. So instead, I'm going to leave you with a couple of videos. If, like Whitney Houston, you believe the children are our future, then this will be right up your street. Because by being a loved, supported and encouraged kid, by - dare I quote Whitney again? - being taught well and being let lead the way, there's more chance you'll grow into an adult that cares about others. That's my untested hypothesis but it makes sense to me. So click this link, and then this link and watch the next generation being fabulous and clever and funny. If nothing else it might distract you from what could happen tomorrow night. 

Have a lovely week, folks.

*Happy birthday to Marcus who turned 23 on Saturday!