I didn’t know Gabrielle Giffords before January 8, 2011.
Why would I?
I didn’t live in Arizona and wasn’t particularly plugged into that part of American politics. Sure, I’m sure I saw her name in news stories and reports, especially after Arizona’s controversial immigration law was passed. But as with most other American congressmen and women — and even governors — her name just didn’t stick.
Then January 8 happened. I remembered following the events of that day on Twitter, especially her “death” — which was later proven to be untrue. That day was the first time in a long time I turned on CNN to follow the events in Arizona.
I don’t know why, but Giffords’ story struck a chord with me. Even before we knew anything about how she was doing.
After the first post-shooting images of her were released, I was even more struck by Giffords and her story. She looked so happy, so at peace, so OK.
Giffords’ first television interview was with Dianne Sawyer. I spent most of the hour in tears watching in amazement at the videos of this woman fighting so hard to be who she was all over again.
“She sounds like a child,” my boyfriend commented after one section where Giffords spoke.
He was right, she did. She spoke in short, usually one-word sentences. She looked confused when she was asked some questions, but I still saw so much hope and possibility from her.
Late last year, Gabby: A Story of Courage and Hope was released — a book by Giffords and her husband Mark Kelly. The book told the story of Giffords’ life before the shooting, but more of it took place in the days, weeks and months that came afterward. How she fought to build her life back — to walk, to talk — to learn everything all over again.
Of course, the real question was whether Giffords was going to run for re-election this year. Whenever it was asked, Kelly always gave the same response: The decision was Giffords’ alone to make, and she had until May to make it.
Then this weekend we got more news from Giffords. Only this time, it wasn’t about her future aspirations. This time it was about her present situation. She had decided she would be resigning her congressional seat.
In a video released on her website, wearing a red jacket almost just like the one she was shot in just over a year ago, Giffords said farewell:
“I will return,” Giffords promised, smiling in a way that you could almost see the “old” Gabby shining through.
She promised that while she was getting better, she needed to take some time to focus on her recovery. And while she didn’t expressly say she wasn’t planning to run again, the video made it pretty clear that her political career was probably done.
The New York Times reported Sunday night that Giffords would end her term in congress finishing the Congress on Your Corner event in the supermarket parking lot where she was shot one year ago.
Perhaps because of that decision, and so many others, I still see hope from Gabrielle Gifford. Sunday’s events reminded me of some of what she had written in Gabby‘s final chapter entitled “Gabby’s Voice:”
Hope and faith. You have to have hope and faith.
Everything I do reminds me of that horrible day. Just rolling onto my side is hard. Hard to sleep at night. Reminds me of how badly I was hurt. It was hard but I’m alive …
Long ways to go. Grateful to survive. It’s frustrating. Mentally hard. Hard work. I’m trying. Trying so hard to get better. Regain what I’ve lost. Want to speak better .
Trying to get back to work … I’m so sorry I’m unable to work right now.
I hope I never have to fight a battle like the one that Gabrielle Giffords is fighting, but I know I will fight smaller battles throughout my lifetime.
I hope like Giffords, no matter how tough my fight may seem or how futile it appears to be, I hope I am able to hold my head up high and carry on. I hope no matter how dark things may seem, I am able to say exactly what Giffords said:
I will get stronger. I will return.
Of that, I have no doubt.
Good luck, Gabby.
Photo for blog post a screengrab from Giffords’ video announcing her resignation.
The whine of a generation
OK, so Pat Benatar was talking about love, but if you swap love for life, those lines could be the battlecry of my generation — or at least that’s what we’re being told to believe.
It started last week with a column by Rob Carrick in The Globe and Mail entitled “2012 vs 1984: Young adults really do have it harder today.” In his column, Carrick laments the life of us 20-something nowadays: broke and in low-paying jobs even as the price of things, such as houses and cars, have risen astronomically. Carrick wrote:
“Finally!” was a common refrain from those in my generation. “Someone who gets how I feel and how hard it is to be me!”
I read Carrick’s column and walked away with a medicore feeling. I didn’t see this as a battle cry. This wasn’t the refrain of a generation. Are things tougher for my generation than my parents? I don’t really know. I can say my parents had it rough while I was growing up, but it was such a different time. I commented on this recently when my boyfriend and I went shopping for tablets.
Back when I was a kid, I remember my parents saving for months and months and months to get a CD player or finally a VCR. Nowadays, my generation seems to live in a kind of “I want, so I buy.” When was the last time you really saved for anything? Personally, I don’t even remember it.
But sure, OK, we have it harder today.
Then this week, Carrick published a letter from a 29-year-old man thanking him for what he wrote. This man, who is the same age as me, lamented the things he’ll never be able to do because things are so tough for us right now. Here’s an excerpt (the man was kept anonymous, so not to hurt his job hunting chances):
The piece goes on about how this guy applies for 100 jobs in the hopes of snagging 15 interviews, and how he continues to repeat the process. Like Carrick’s last piece, many of my peers leaped on to this as a battling cry.
I posted my response on these four points on a friend’s Facebook wall, but here they are:
Now, I’m not saying our generation doesn’t have it hard, because we do — every generation does (heck, my grandmother was born into the start of the Second World War, her parents lived through two world wars and a Great Depression). But we’ve got to stop feeling like we have it the hardest of any generation that ever came before us because it just makes us seem entitled. Yes, entitled.
While I’m sure his job search is hard, I haven’t heard of anyone who applies for that many jobs at once. Which makes me wonder what industry this anonymous letter writer is searching in.
And my second question goes back to my observation about the difference between my parents’ generation and mine: Do we not have the disposable income to get married, have kids, buy a house and save for retirement, because of all the gadgets we buy?
Next time you lament how you can’t afford a downpayment for a mortgage, look at where you’re spending money: smartphones, gadgets, dinners out etc.
And another thing that’s different from our generation compared to our parents: In 1984, university degrees were rarer. More people went to college. That’s not the case today. An undergraduate university degree nowadays does not guarantee you a job, you need more to stand out from the pack.
That being said, sometimes it’s all about luck. I know a 23-year-old recent immigrant to Canada that just landed a job paying almost $50,000 a year — and she has no post-secondary education.
Yes, things are tough for our generation, but let’s quit whining about it already.
Photo by ahmadzamri on Flickr.