From Serenity Now!! to The Serenity Prayer – How To Survive a Pandemic

The actor Ben Stiller’s father Jerry died on May 11, a month shy of his 93rd birthday. Jerry Stiller was a comedian and actor whose career spanned more than half a century. Like the spring-loaded plunger that sends a pinball into the field of play, Stiller’s death (which was not attributed to Covid-19) sent my thoughts bouncing around the bumpers and flippers in my brain, unexpectedly leading me to the answer to a most vexing question: How should I live my life as the Covid-19 pandemic plays out?

“SERENITY NOW!!”

Fans of Seinfeld know Stiller as George Costanza’s father, Frank. George is famously “neurotic, self-loathing” and “prone to occasional periods of overconfidence that invariably arise at the worst possible time.” Frank was perhaps best known as the prickly champion of an alternative to the Christmas holiday known as Festivus – a product of his “disgust with the commercialism of Christmas and his dislike of tinsel decorations.” Frank did not conceive of Festivus himself, or declare that feats of strength and the airing of grievances would be among its core traditions, but to me Frank is Festivus, and Festivus is Frank.

Festivus aside, I remember Frank Costanza best for “SERENITY NOW!!” – the phrase he bellowed when his frequent fits of anger reached a zenith.

Frank’s outbursts were often prompted by exchanges with his shrill, nagging wife, Estelle. As Frank explains:  “The doctor gave me a relaxation cassette. When my blood pressure gets too high, the man on the tape tells me to say ‘serenity now.’” When pushed to his breaking point, Frank looks skyward, holds up both hands with fists clenched, and shouts that phrase at the top of his lungs – there is nothing relaxing about it.

Frank first used the phrase on the show when Estelle refused to move her front seat forward to give him more leg room in the back seat of George’s car. Frustrated by Estelle’s resistance and ignoring George’s reminder that they were only five blocks from home, Frank loses it: “Like an animal! Because of her, I have to sit here like an animal! SERENITY NOW! SERENITY NOW!”

George asks about, and Frank explains, the inspiration for the phrase. Then George asks: “Are you supposed to yell it?” To which Frank responds, “the man on the tape wasn’t specific.”

What does this have to do with a pandemic? Well, at times over the last couple of months, I’ve absolutely felt the urge to channel Frank, to look skyward and shout, “SERENITY NOW!”

In my first blog post, I described my feelings about the Covid-19 pandemic as follows:  “Unsettled. Anxious. Uncertain. A little bit scared. Disoriented.” Two-plus months in, I might choose a slightly different set of words. For sure, I would add frustrated and restless to that list.

Frustrated

My consumption of news regarding Covid-19 has trailed off. I became frustrated that this pandemic – a public health crisis prompted by a virus that literally does not care where you come from, what you look like, or which political party you support – has achieved the impossible:  it has further divided a country that was fast becoming a nation of Hatfields and McCoys. If a public health emergency cannot bring us together, exactly what can? Would it take war between nations? A meteor strike? An invasion by extraterrestrials?

The debate du jour, of course, is about the pace of “opening up.” Judging from a non-scientific survey of my social media accounts, there are three camps: (1) Full Throttle; (2) Proceed With Caution; and (3) Slow Down.

Those in the Full Throttle camp want to open up the economy NOW!, and some consider being asked to wear a mask to be a threat to personal liberty on the level of being forced to donate a kidney. Some – not all – in this camp are willing to tote guns and storm state capitols to prove … something. These are many of the same folks, of course, who originally thought (because they were told to think so) that the whole coronavirus thing was a hoax. As the bodies have piled up (we could nearly fill the Rose Bowl with the dead, at this point), they have now pivoted to alternately blaming bats, the Chinese, Bill Gates, the World Health Organization, and Obama. Some have taken to acts of defiance of rules and guidelines promulgated in the name of public health. They ridicule the snowflakes who wear masks and practice social distancing. The Full Throttle folks are convinced this crisis is being manipulated by “the media” to control the masses and help tank the economy for political ends.  

Those in the Proceed With Caution camp (spoiler, my camp) are typically sane and rational and conflicted. People in this camp understand that this pandemic poses a once-in-a-century quandary, and that difficult decisions are being made based on a delicate balance of legitimate, competing interests. They tend to want public and private decisions guided by data, science, and compassion, but are also resigned to the fact that cold, hard economic analysis needs to be considered as well. They know that being 100% confident in the wisdom of any decision is a pipedream. These folks want to save as many lives as possible while minimizing the economic and other collateral damage inflicted by any set of policies that shackles commercial activity.

I think the vast majority of Americans are in this centrist camp, and that they hold many different opinions and points of view because there are really difficult, vexing problems to be solved, and reasonable minds can differ on how to solve them. Doctors, public health experts, economists, experts in the transmission of respiratory illnesses, economists, actuaries, supply chain experts. I say bring all of them to the table to help forge a path forward. You’ll note I omitted politicians; in a perfect world, all of the politicians would be quarantined – together – on Madagascar (with apologies to Madagascar).

Then, there are those in the Slow Down camp. A few on the fringe in this camp are convinced politicians urging open economies want to kill the most vulnerable in some twisted Darwinian experiment. They are by nature nervous and cautious, and wonderfully stubborn about saving lives. They will advocate taking any and all steps to ensure that the inevitable second wave can be controlled. Whatever the economic impact, they want all of us to wait patiently for the virus to be brought to its knees – by a vaccine or otherwise – before getting all the way back to “normal.” As much heat as they take, they are the most compassionate among us, and their voices need to be heard even if the ultimate course we take strays from their ideal course.

I’m not frustrated that there are differences of opinion – that’s to be expected in a society where information (and disinformation, sadly) flows like beer at a frat party. What’s frustrating is the moving targets, the demoralization of institutions that should be leading our national response, the inconsistent approaches taken by states that share borders simply because different political parties control their governments. It’s all so silly and on-brand for America, circa 2020, that the imperative that we vanquish a common, non-discriminating foe has driven us to hate, berate, and distrust one another even more.

Restless

While my frustration is largely borne of what I know and see today, my restlessness relates to the future and its unknowns. I am restless because I realize that I need to figure out – for myself – how to forge a path forward. I don’t fully trust elected officials to call the plays, and therefore I need to figure out exactly where I stand on the “open up” versus “go slow” spectrum and be prepared to improvise. None of us is an innocent bystander; we are all participants. Going forward, the outcome here – that is, how much worse things get before we can say this pandemic is over – will depend on the choices we make, individually. Day by day. Hour by hour.

We all take risks, every single day. We drive, sometimes too fast. We eat delicious Italian beef sandwiches dipped in gravy, and ice cream, and sushi. We ski and skateboard. We jaywalk. By and large, we respect formal and informal rules – that’s part of the social contract under which we live. But to different degrees, we are willing to push the edges of those rules.

And now, mundane things we never associated with risk are – even if to some tiny degree – risky. Riding a commuter train. Using a public restroom. Going to a grocery store. Singing in a choir. Pumping our own gas. Judged against staying home, every single one of these actions increases the risk of contracting the coronavirus and suffering from Covid-19.

How each of us navigates this pandemic will be a study in risk tolerance. Every day.

I desperately want to get back to normal. I want a haircut. I want to eat in a restaurant. But I also want my 89-year-old diabetic mother to see her 90th birthday in October, and to join our family in my home on Christmas Eve.

The restlessness. The frustration. At times it leads to those “SERENITY NOW!!” moments. I don’t get there daily, or even weekly. But every once in a while – usually when I read a story about some defiant, selfish jackass – I get to that peak and feel like letting go, like Frank.

So how did Jerry Stiller’s death help me develop a framework to use going forward? My musings about Frank Costanza and SERENITY NOW!! and individual responsibility and negotiating risk led me to think about The Serenity Prayer. You may not know it by that name, but I suspect you’ve seen it:

God, grant me the serenity to accept things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.

Reinhold Niebuhr, American theologian

This prayer was composed in the early 1930s, during the Depression, and gained widespread secular use. It was later adopted and popularized by Alcoholics Anonymous, and the famous atheist author and philosopher Ayn Rand said of the prayer:

… that statement is profoundly true, as a summary and a guideline: it names the mental attitude which a rational man must seek to achieve. The statement is beautiful in its eloquent simplicity.

Ayn Rand, The Metaphysical Versus the Man-Made, as published in Philosophy: Who Needs It (1982)

I fancy myself a rational man, and if The Serenity Prayer offers up “the mental attitude which a rational man must seek to achieve,” I’m all in – so much so that I have decided to use it as a North Star for finding the way back to “normal.”

Accepting Things I Cannot Change

Going forward, I know I will encounter things I cannot control or change, and must accept. Among them:

+ I cannot change that some people will insist on viewing the “open up” versus “hunker down” debate as a political debate. It’s nonsensical and counterproductive and I wish people would stop. But they won’t – I’ll have to accept that and move on.

+ I cannot change that some people will view minor inconveniences (wearing masks, staying physically distant from others, not getting to play blackjack at casinos) as major assaults on their liberty. There have been oceans of ink spilled onto pages by people who have actually suffered a deprivation of liberty – none of those pages describe the horror of being asked to wear a cloth mask at Costco.

+ I cannot change the hearts, minds, and souls of the truly asinine – the kind of people who respond to polite requests by becoming violent and menacing and confrontational.

+ I cannot change that some will spend an inordinate amount of time looking to assign blame, rather than looking for solutions.

+ I cannot change that not everyone will assess the risks that are presented ahead through the same lens as I do. I have no choice but to accept that I will encounter some who do things I find unacceptably risky, and some who will believe I am the one being reckless.

+ I cannot change that my state, village, or employer will impose rules on the road back to normal that I think go too far.  I’ll accept the rules, and do my level best to comply with those rules. But I might – unwittingly or intentionally – violate a rule here or there. I won’t do so intentionally, though, if I think I am putting anyone else in harm’s way.

+ I cannot change that things won’t snap back to normal overnight, that we have miles and miles yet to go before we get to normal.

+ I cannot change that when I watch baseball or football or hockey again, I’m likely going to be watching athletes in empty stadiums and arenas. Sad, but true.

Having The Courage To Change Things I Can

But there are many things I can control and change, going forward:

+ First and foremost, I can change my mindset to a pandemic mindset when I am out and about. Early on, I read or heard great, simple advice:  whether you believe you are infected or not, behave as if you are a contagious carrier of the virus  determined not to infect anyone else. This is the Covid-19 Golden Rule, as far as I am concerned. If everyone followed this rule consistently, we would all be OK. I am going to do my best to do so. (And, by the way, having tiptoed back into society over the last few weeks, I will be frank – lots of people are not living by this rule.)

+ I can control my level of education about the virus, how it spreads, and which precautions are most effective. Statistics about how many have died, how many have been tested, how many ventilators are in use, and how many ICU beds are open are important – but they don’t really do me any good, individually, as I forge ahead. I will read seemingly credible sources that provide practical advice, like the one I’ve linked here. Facts about the disease, and how it spreads, are critical to understanding how I can follow the Golden Rule. When I’m outside, 150 yards from a playing partner hitting a golf shot (using a club no one else has touched), I’m not a danger to anyone. When I am in line at the deli at Sunset Foods with 20 of my closest friends on a Saturday morning, I am a threat. So I will wear a mask, keep my distance, avoid coughing or sneezing, and keep to myself. And in the unlikely event someone invites me to join a choir, I will politely decline.

+ I can hunker down when sick – this is the most important application of the Golden Rule. In the past, I’m sure I’ve gone to work or to a restaurant or party when I’ve felt just a wee bit under the weather. No more. If I am even the least bit feverish or “off” in any way, I’m staying home. Period. Sure, I might have to overcome FOMO (the Fear of Missing Out) from time to time. But until we are truly back to normal – and maybe even after we are back to normal, I’m not going to apologize for sidelining myself if I am feeling ill. Those among us for whom never missing a day of work is a badge of honor? Please get over it; it’s not so honorable to get others sick.

+ I can control and change my tolerance of other points of view and degrees of sensitivity to social interaction. Look, some people are going to be very anxious in public for the foreseeable future. They will wear masks even in situations where they are not obviously needed (alone in their cars, for example). They will feel more comfortable around me if I wear a mask, or keep my distance. I’m sure there will come a time – likely a long, long time from now – where I think to myself, “wow – didn’t he hear the news that we are past this thing?” Shame on me when (if) I have that thought. Why should I care if you choose to wear a mask in public in 2025? Why should I care if you choose to cross the street to avoid me when I am walking toward you? Let’s try something new, as a society, and be universally respectful and tolerant.

+ I can control how I react to the defiant, rude, selfish oaf who refuses to live by the Golden Rule. My hope is that my reaction to that person will be the same as my typical reaction to any troublemaker I encounter in life.  First, respectful re-routing. Second, cautious and measured engagement (if necessary). Third, extraction and flight. Growing up in the city helped train me for this moment. As someone who walked city streets every day and encountered the normal collection of drunks, menacing kids, creepy adults, etc., I learned that the best way to avoid trouble was to simply avoid it. Cross the street. Choose another seat on the bus. Move to another table. Get off a stop early. Simple survival tools. If I encounter someone who decides to make a spectacle of himself by defying rules or ridiculing those who impose or follow them, I will likely adopt that same strategy – avoidance. If forced to engage, I’ll try to do so calmly and with reason, aiming to avoid a SERENITY NOW! moment for everyone. And if all else fails, I’ll get the hell out of Dodge and, if I’ve witnessed something really, really bad, I’ll do what I can to ensure that a person charged with keeping the peace is aware that a troublemaker is on the loose.

+ And finally, I can control and change the choices I make as a consumer. When businesses re-open, those who understand and respect differing levels of comfort among their clientele will thrive. Those who celebrate being allowed to open by raising a figurative middle finger to best practices will suffer. If you are a business owner, compassion and common sense will breed comfort and loyalty. Simple gestures will matter. Case in point: the local Waterway car wash/gas station has earned my business by taking the simple step of placing boxes of disposable plastic gloves next to its pumps. Small measure, small cost. But it tells me its management knows that some people will appreciate not having to contact a touch screen or gas pump that many others have touched that day. If I owned a business that interfaced with the public, I would not want to alienate a significant percentage of my potential customer base by seeming not to care all that much about Covid-19.

The Wisdom To Know The Difference

The final ask of The Serenity Prayer is for the wisdom to know the difference between what we can change and cannot change. As the Honorable Richard M. Daley once said (I think), “it ain’t a rocket scientist thing.” We generally know what we can and cannot change. And I’m not sure the changes I have listed above necessarily require a great deal of courage to be executed. It seems that simply being considerate, tolerant, and exercising common sense will go a long way here. But that’s usually the case, right?

So that’s my plan going forward – accept the things about living through a pandemic that I cannot change, and change my mindset in small ways to be a better pandemic citizen.

Of course, I reserve the right to become frustrated. If it becomes too much, I will close my eyes, raise my clenched fists, and in memory of Frank Costanza I will wail “SERENITY NOW!!!” (But I won’t do so in an elevator or other confined space.)

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