Pandemic postcard #50: Help along the way

There are plenty of reasons to cheer as the Senate seems poised to pass the latest — and let’s hope final — pandemic stimulus package, from ramping up the vaccination campaign to cutting child poverty in half to offering help with daycare costs so parents can get back to work. Personally, I am glad because I’ve already spent my next stimulus check.

I didn’t wake up the other day planning to buy a new laptop. But after a few weeks of increasingly sluggish performance, a Microsoft warning that I could no longer update my cloud-based Word software was the nudge I needed to replace Tom’s late-2011 model MacBook (which itself had come out of the closet to replace the 2013 Mac desktop that had hemorrhaged on me last year). With luck, I will get nearly a decade of use from this nimble new machine. Meanwhile, I’m marveling at the speed with which I’m opening and saving files.

It definitely feels like we’re accelerating out in the world, too. And much as it helped to have spring arrive just as we were locking down last March, the longer days and warming temperatures are welcome harbingers of better times ahead. But we’re not out of the dark winter yet, despite what certain governors would like to think. Ask the essential workers who haven’t yet been vaccinated as variants of the virus continue to spread, or grocery store staff working hazardous jobs for $10 an hour, or the kids who are eager to return to school before fall. Ask the folks in Jackson, Mississippi, who haven’t had water to drink or even flush their toilets for three weeks.

We’ve learned a lot of lessons this past year. One is that official inaction kills people, as it did with weeks of insistence that the virus would magically disappear. Another is that government can do a lot of good, as it did with the first round of stimulus relief, passed last March like the emergency bill that it was. Yes, the national debt is piling up, but with near-zero interest. Economic activity will replenish the coffers as we spend money and pay taxes. It’s smart to go big, especially to help the littlest and the least among us.

Self-sufficiency is a myth that deserves to die, and it sometimes feels like a more humane form of capitalism may be within sight, if only we can learn the lessons of 2020. Wouldn’t it be great to live in a country where people didn’t need to choose between food and medicine? Where people have help — via a reasonable minimum wage, for example — affording rent and child care, not just when emergencies happen, but to prevent them?

The government rescued me and millions of others last year with the first-ever unemployment assistance for freelancers, and now it has helped me replace the main tool of my wordsmithing trade. I am happy to have my first new computer in nearly a decade. Thank you, Uncle Sam. I’ll pay you back soon, I promise.


Thank you for reading Surely Joy. You can find the first Pandemic Postcards and my earlier writings here. If you’d like to get future posts via email, look for the link on the right side of this page (or maybe below this post, if you’re on a mobile device). I write for a living, so if you’d like to support my work, please hit the tip jar. Thank you.

Pandemic postcard #38: Simplicity made easy

Item 1: The Minimalists have a new documentary on Netflix. Actually, you need to wait until Jan. 1 to watch it, but the trailer is out now.

Item 2: Netflix likes minimalism. The streaming service already showcased the work of Marie Kondo, whose tidying-up tips made her a star.

I’ll get back to those thoughts. First, though, welcome to Surely Joy’s new home! I had to make a quick move this week. Here’s how that happened:

Not my license plate, but I love it.

Last Saturday morning, I woke up and realized that my latest post hadn’t gone out to email subscribers. I’ve been blogging in various places since 2003, always favoring the simplest possible platforms, and my low-tech approach has served me well. Lately, though, I’d been frustrated with some typographical glitches in Google Blogspot—so when the email feed failed my readers and me last week, I decided to build a new website. “What the heck,” I thought. “I don’t have anything better to do today.”

So that’s what I did, and here we are. I’ve thought about moving all my Surely Joy content—or at least the first 37 pandemic postcards—over here, and I may eventually get around to that. But what I really want to talk about today is that word: content.

Content, noun. Stuff that people produce and buy to fill the insatiable demands of our consumerist culture. All the stuff clogging our online feeds and our homes.

Content, adjective. A state of being satisfied. I am enough. I have enough. You are enough. You have enough.

I think The Minimalists, Josh and Ryan, are basically good guys with genuinely helpful advice on paring down the possessions you already have. They refuse to sell ads on their website and their podcast, and that’s admirable. But they sure do sell themselves and their philosophy.

More power to them, but can you truly have a simple life with millions of followers, bestselling books, speaking tours (when those were a thing), and two Netflix documentaries? And if a key principle of minimalism is buying less stuff, why not release the documentary before the holiday shopping season rather than on New Year’s Day, to give people plenty of time to practice the idea of “enough” before adopting minimalism as a 2021 resolution?

As for Ms. Kondo, I haven’t read any of her books and I didn’t watch her Netflix series, but I know she’s all about sparking joy—a word I obviously cherish. So I will admit to having been a little bit appalled when I heard last year that she’d launched her own line of … stuff. I just took my first-ever peek at her website and, amid the gift guides, I see she is also offering a 10-lesson, 75-minute course in mastering her method. Just $39.99.

I get it. Everyone needs to make and spend some money in our world. But know this: You have everything you need to live a simpler life. You don’t need any more content to be content. You don’t need a guru, a method, or a teacher. And you don’t need this blog, though I am grateful you’ve spent a few minutes reading this, and that you’ve found Surely Joy in this new space.

We’ll meet again here next week. In the meantime, be content—the adjective, not the noun.

Thanks for reading Surely Joy. I write for a living, so if you enjoy my work, feel free to hit the tip jar.