As Alexander Pope wrote in “An Essay on Man” in 1733, “Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always to be blest.”
Beset by pain, physical limitations (a “hunchback” of 4 ½ feet with tuberculosis, and unable to dress himself), and anti-Catholic laws, Pope was a scathing critic and satirist of English society and religion. Although the first line of this quotation is best known, I believe the second sheds invaluable light on his views. Unable to achieve a blessed state in the present, people rely on the possible blessings of the future to carry them forward.
With limited control over the future, and a present exhibiting a wide range of both kindness and brutality, we have relied on escapism for centuries. The timeless activities of poetry, music, art, food, and sport have been joined by the modern alternate realities of screen time and shopping.
I must admit that I probably first remembered Pope’s quotation when it was used to describe either the first day of baseballs’ spring training or its opening day at parks around the country. As a New England transplant in the early 1970s, I vaguely remembered the roadblocks and pitfalls of generations of Sox fans, but suffered along with them at Bucky Bleepin’ Dent’s pop fly home run in 1978 and Bill Buckner’s error in 1986 that denied them championships. Even though there was the “Curse of the Bambino” attached to the sale of Babe Ruth for merely cash in 1920 (popularized by sports writer Dan Shaughnessy in a 1990 book), hope arrived each February on “Truck Day” when the semis left Fenway for spring training with all the bats, balls, and equipment so the Sox could gambol on the green grass of sunny Florida before they’d lost a single game.
Today, even that most simple-minded fun has been sunk in the quagmire of modern life. For almost 100 days, players and owners have acted like . . . a bunch of Democrats and Republicans, unable to agree, generally unwilling to compromise, leaving baseball’s few remaining fans with little hope for the future. It’s possible that the billionaire owners, who treat their teams like just another mansion or yacht according to one sportswriter, may eventually feel a tiny pinch in their wallet-pocket, and give us another unsatisfying, shortened season that won’t be able to escape the asterisk that tempers all individual and team records.
Is it possible to turn Pope’s quotation inside-out to describe the emotional and spiritual lift granted us by spring in New England? Can “Spring eternally provide hope?” I saw robins on the lawn today, searching for early worms, not strikingly beautiful but a promise of what is to be: warmth, sunny skies, nature that is so disturbed in many places but calm for at least a few days in our area.
And almost hidden in a corner rhododendron, the bright flash of a male cardinal that could symbolize a visit from a dear departed friend, lost last year, who lived an exemplary, gentle, and accepting life. Can these natural and supernatural inspirations provide hope at a time when there are so many dark clouds (war in Ukraine, climate catastrophes, angry divisions in America and worldwide) in our future?
As the exceptional Black artist I wrote about previously, Dr. Imo Imeh, observed, he “doesn’t have the luxury of fainting” in the face of racial conflict and discord. I don’t think we have that luxury as world citizens, either. But almost 50 years ago, at a time of when I was involved in more direct and intense political activity, I realized that being overwhelmed and confused by the tragedies of the world didn’t help me or anyone else: at the time I said that no matter the state of American life, there will always be (I am severely dated by the reference) “children starving in China.” At least occasionally, we need to escape the moment enough to recharge for the future.
Albert Einstein said we must “Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow, while MLK Jr. told us that “We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.”
And baseball great Ernie Banks: “Spring training means flowers, people coming outdoors, sunshine, optimism and baseball. Spring training is a time to think about being young again.”
Allen Woods is a freelance writer, author of the Revolutionary-era crime novel “The Sword and Scabbard,” and Greenfield resident. His column appears regularly on a Saturday. Comments are welcome here or at awoods2846@gmail.com.