I Have Learned A Lot, But I Know Nothing
There is a glaring issue going on in the world that no one seems to care about; apathy. Specifically, the apathy of a white, privileged twenty-something, about to graduate from an elite New England liberal arts college. How does everyone have something they are so passionate about? How do people feel they have enough of a calling to begin a new chapter of their life with such confidence, such disregard for the unknown? Even those who do not care about anything, seem to care about making money, hence the myriad of Wall Street jobs I see many of my peers chomping at the bit for. See, I know that I like money, or at least the comfort that it provides, but I’ve been lucky enough to always have it, so to me, it isn’t worth doing something I don’t want to do yet because I don’t know what it’s like to live without the means to which I have become accustomed. In some ways, this may make me come across as a spoiled brat with no motivation. But where does the motivation to disrupt the comfort you have grown to love come from if you do not know the best way for you to enter society, as an individual, in the next stage of your life? I am yet to fully understand the true value of money in my life, as I have not had to make my own — yes, I have had jobs before but not on the scale of my job being my life — hence I will not allow money to be the driving factor, which it seems to be for many, in my decision on where to nestle myself into society. It seems irresponsible. So if, for the moment at least, money isn’t going to provide me with the drive I want in the next stage of my life, what will?
There are moments in every person’s life that direct them in a certain way. These moments are experiences that drive people to do things that they feel are important or meaningful. Both fortunately and unfortunately, the more extreme, gut-wrenching, or unbearable the experience is, the greater the drive that builds in you. I have witnessed this around me, but am yet to experience what I would call a defining moment. I’ve been protected, however that has not always been the case for others.
During the era of McCarthyism in the 1940’s and 1950’s, countless Americans were persecuted for having Communist or Socialist views. Perhaps the most famous instance of this type of persecution, is the House of Un-American Activities Committee’s attack on “the Hollywood Ten,” a group of actors, screenwriters, and film executives accused of communist activity in 1947. They went before Joseph McCarthy and the rest of HUAC and were asked the party line question: “Are you now, or have you ever been a member of the Communist Party of the United States?” They answered with the First Amendment as a defense, which they believed to be sufficient. It was not, they were all convicted and some served prison time.
About three years earlier my great uncle Edward Yellin, who indeed was a card carrying member of the Communist Party, was called before the HUAC. Uncle Eddie was a brilliant man, the kind of brilliance that one might notice from only a 30 second conversation with him. He had earned a full scholarship to Johns Hopkins Medical School, which he knew would be put in jeopardy if he went before the committee and answered, “Yes.” or “I plead the fifth.” as most who were called before did. But, just as brilliant as Uncle Eddie was, he was equally if not more principled. He took the stand in court, raised his right hand, gave the oath, and told the truth. “Yes, I am a card-carrying member of the Communist Party, and I plead the First Amendment on the basis of free speech and assembly.” The court was no more moved by 25-year-old Edward Yellin from the Bronx, than they would be by “The Hollywood Ten” three years later. He was sentenced to a year in prison and lost his scholarship to Johns Hopkins. This was a moment in my Uncle Eddie’s life that he used to justify and cement his place in the world going forward. He went on to continue medical study at the University of Illinois, became a doctor, and, before his retirement, dedicated his career to pro-bono work.
I think it was four or five Passover seders ago. My family and I sat around the table in a sea of matzo ball soup and gfilte fish. I was drowning in the various memories and political positions everyone saved up from the year past. Through all of this conversation Uncle Eddie’s story came up, as it often does. But I had never really spoken to Uncle Eddie personally about his experience, rather my father had only told me about it. After the talk of McCarthyism dwindled, I turned to him and said: “Uncle Eddie, I’ve obviously heard about what you’ve been through, but how did that all add up to you becoming a doctor, why weren’t you into politics and stuff like Grandma?” His face slowly rose to a smile. “I was, and am, into politics! Politics, or democracy rather, is about making sure everyone is heard. My voice was silenced, but since all I knew and cared about was medicine, the only way to I could go forward was by treating people who were otherwise overlooked, or could not afford treatment. In a way, they were being silenced too.”
There is a proverb that goes “If you don’t define the moment, the moment will define you.” As nice and cool as that sounds, it is completely backwards. There are moments in every person’s life that have grave weight, and these are the moments that define you, that give you purpose. As brutal of an experience as McCarthyism was for Uncle Eddie, it certainly did him one service; it made him sure of what he wanted to do, which is something just about everyone, and certainly myself, is looking for.
Although I, and hopefully others, wouldn’t describe myself as arrogant, I am also certainly not humble; I understand my limits and capabilities whether they be broad and impressive or narrow and disappointing. With this understanding comes the realization that most things have come relatively easy to me thus far in my life, almost exclusively by the motivation, will and means of my parents. When things are presented to you and for you in this way for so many years of your life, where do you derive your own motivation, will and means? Sure, I have enjoyed athletics and hanging out with my friends a great deal. I enjoy a Saturday night out that doesn’t end until Sunday morning. I love the pure exuberance of being out on the lacrosse field with all my best friends, without a care in the world. I have enjoyed many of my courses, because they are interesting for interest’s sake; they have no agenda. But, other than things of that nature; unadulterated pleasure, fun, thought — nihilism — I can’t find motivation. I only want to do the work that can give me those feelings. Is that a bad thing? Does that make me a bad person? No, it’s not a bad thing and it does not make me a bad person. It makes me undecided about the next chapter in my life, and unwilling to compromise my happiness and sense of fulfillment — two things that have been relegated to the limbo of society. What do you do when the things that you have cared about for your entire life, essentially all of them, become unimportant, seemingly in a split second?
As one of my college professors once told me: information can merely be read or learned, while, to attain knowledge, information must pass through experience. This sentiment is particularly salient to me at the moment because I feel that I am saturated with information, and have no meaningful experiences to pass it through. My Uncle Eddie had such a profound experience — a defining moment — to pass his knowledge through, and in turn, it directed essentially all of the other decisions he made about how he wanted to fit into the world, and the kind of legacy he wanted to leave. These types of defining moments do not often, nor do they come gift-wrapped. Rather, they are toxic and no one wants to touch them. It is those who recognize these moments — the luckiest of us — and seize the opportunity to pass all the knowledge they have learned through this prism, that will realize new perspectives and feel more comfortable with and sure about their place in the world.
