Public Service Announcement
by Lorin Clarke @lorinimus
For some people, 2020 was the year they were born. To be born at all is a statistical miracle, so well done to them for starters. But also: who knows what future geniuses have just arrived among us? Who knows what wonderful parents they might become, what rewarding friends, what revolutionary spirits determined to make the world a better place? Artists or vets or therapists or people who are really good at opening packets of things that nobody else in the family can manage. Some people, in 2020, found each other. Friends were made. A few people, this year, were just friends, until suddenly they were more than that, and 2020 could throw anything at them and they soared above all of it, gleeful and distracted, their thoughts sneaking back to each other whenever there was a gap in the thought-traffic. In the middle of Melbourne’s strictest COVID lockdown, there was a police officer standing in the street when I went to put the rubbish out. He had his arms crossed and was looking directly up. It was after curfew. I thought he might be looking for the police helicopter. I was about to ask about it when he said, still looking up, “You noticed the stars are brighter in lockdown? Not as much light pollution.” Not enough to redeem 2020, but it was a nicer moment than it could have been. 2020 sometimes felt like being dumped by an absolute monster wave – but you stood up! You hauled
air into your lungs! You opened your eyes! And – kapow! – another wave, right at you. No time for breath. A hurtling wall of power and seaweed and someone else’s surfboard and it just kept happening. But it’s funny how that can give you a sense of perspective. You emerge exhilarated, victorious. For me, one of the waves this year involved a trip to the children’s hospital. Turns out, a broken kneecap is a gangster cliché for a reason. It’s very painful. Waiting in hospital with a kid dealing with a gangster injury might seem like a terrible thing to be doing right at the end of 2020 – and it is…but at moments like that, perspective is everywhere. Medical workers are so impressive. Medicare is amazing, too – you’re not sitting there dreading an astronomical bill. You look around and see everyone – from all walks of life – waiting quietly for their child to be seen by experts. Some of the children have minor injuries – a broken finger, say – and others are far too familiar with the place. Looking around, a small hand gripping mine, I realised not for the first time in 2020 that contrary to considerable evidence to the contrary, people can be so excellent. They can be terrible, sure, but they can be brilliant, and kind, and helpful, and 2020 has also reminded us that if they aren’t these things, sometimes they get voted out. It’s true that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but some book covers are lovely. Some book covers make you think about the book differently, and you have to keep checking back on the cover as you read on, to help you imagine your way into the story. 2020, if it were a book, would look from its cover like a truly awful read – and yes, much of it was frankly unreadable – but there were people working on vaccines and future geniuses being born and funny nurses in children’s hospitals and police officers looking at the stars. 2020 was the worst. 2021 might even be better – it wouldn’t be hard. False positivity is the worst, and learning lessons from adversity is boring. But 2020 had some tiny moments of loveliness buried in among the horror – and thank goodness for that.
Lorin Clarke is a Melbourne-based writer. The second season of her radio series, The Fitzroy Diaries, is on ABC Radio National and the ABC Listen app now.
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hat do you think is the average time it takes for something to become a cliché? Centuries? Decades? Years? “Don’t judge a book by its cover” is a cliché. It’s probably fair to say it came about after the invention of the book – but how long after? Here is a cliché that became a cliché faster than any other cliché ever dared to cliché: 2020 is the worst. I would hazard a guess that was a cliché almost the moment it left the first mouth that uttered it – and I would estimate that date to be about 20 January. And here’s the thing: clichés are clichés for a reason. 2020 will go down in history for many terrible reasons. Thing is though, sometimes a cliché isn’t the most scientific method of expressing or interpreting information. Public Service Announcement: 2020 was not entirely the worst.
26 DEC 2020
2020 Vision