When the gospel singers came out and when grown men cried at the microphone in front of thousands, I could feel people rolling their eyes. I could actually see people giving each other that "is this for real?" look to their seatmates. I even did it for a second, gave into that moment when you are uncomfortable at the emotion in front of you so you whisper something snarky to your neighbor or you look away. We snark and we snicker because it's too much for us. We haven't processed our grief our or emotions or our nervousness. It's the moment in sex ed class when you laugh at the video where the girl gets her period at the sleepover because you haven't gotten it yet, or if you have, you don't know how to ask for help. It's the moment during the campfire sing along when everyone starts clapping but you are too cool to clap.
Here is the thing: you are never, ever too cool to clap. And even though I don't have rhythm I learned a long time ago when I worked as a camp counselor that the kids who DON'T clap and the kids who DON'T get into the fun are actually the ones who look silly and foolish.
The puberty and camp examples are ones rooted in childhood and adolescence, which dovetails into my pseudo thesis statement: we are all too old to be snobs.
When you are a kid, you are figuring it out. You are learning the ropes and finding out who you are and if you are even a summer camp kind of kid. I wasn't a summer camp kid, so I nerded out and did my fireside clapping in a different way by embracing the theater group at school, by spending a lot of time in the library, by having a far-too-serious high school boyfriend. We make mistakes when we are younger and that is universal and that is fine. You can't force the kid to clap along, and when you see him refusing to, you know better.
But it's not always that easy to see that allowing yourself to feel and give in, or even not care in a friendly way, is the more loving, generous thing. I'm trying hard lately to not take things personally, not get angry, not get frustrated, to understand. But when we compete and we covet, we turn to snark.
At the Ebert tribute, I felt the snark and I fought it. I clapped, I cried, I let myself really understand that all these people were in this theater because of a man we cared for. Not because they wanted to be seen, and certainly not because they wanted to "rate" the evening's presentation. I let myself be there and be present in the moment because I used to highlight all the movies I had seen in Ebert's movie review book, because I used to have a crush on Siskel, because I was always so happy when their show came on the TV - it was my only glimpse at films I didn't have access to in Winterset, Iowa.
That was last night, and already just a few hours into the afternoon, snobbery and judgement have slithered into my day. On the train this morning I wanted to get on my phone and play a game (it's called Ruzzle and it's amazing). But when I saw everyone else with their head in their phone, I thought "ugh, we are all so terrible. We should be reading a book or looking out the window or balancing our checkbooks, not looking at Facebook or playing games on our phone." But...why not? Why not spend your commute doing whatever the fuck you want? If it doesn't interfere with your fellow passenger and it doesn't cause you bodily harm, why not? Get your phone out. Be on it. Text, play. And don't judge the people on their phone because you choose to read The Feminine Mystique during your train ride instead.
Cry, clap, Ruzzle.
