I thought I was above our crass western consumerism. Proudly swore off cable and checked out books from the library and bought vintage at the Scholarshop. But word that the Galleria might close struck with the weight of, I don't know, the world tribunal at the Hage shutting down? The thought that Borders might have to merge with Barnes & Noble gave me the kind of pang kinder souls feel at Save the Children ads. (I can argue this one: Books do save children.)
Anyway, I started watching my New York Times alerts (Dow Jones down, S&P up a few points, NASDAC slipping, Dow plummeting, more layoffs, more bailouts, more layoffs) the way brokers used to watch the tickertape. (I pretend I understand—like when my engine died and I got out and looked under the hood just because I knew I ought to.)
I also listened to NPR with tornado-alert urgency and, for the first time ever, glued myself to Channel 9's BBC broadcast. World news, every morning with acidic black coffee. Then I went to talk to Sr. Madeleine Lane, SSND, for a story about women's religious orders. Madeleine, who runs a counseling center, heard me babbling about the latest installation of global collapse and said gently, "Turn the TV off."
"Excuse me?"
"Turn the TV off," she repeated more firmly.
So I did. And I switched to KFUO, and felt calmer already. And every time the primal fear started to rise again, I went to interview another nun.
"Does it concern the sisters," I asked the next one casually, "I mean, with so many aging, and your retirement portfolios cut in half, and ..."
She smiled and shrugged. "At least we don't have a mortgage on the mother house!" I asked another if she worries about her order's future survival, and she smiled too. "Not really," she said serenely, against all stats and logic. "God's gotten us this far."
God's going to get a lot busier in the next year or two.
And a lot more obvious.
—Jeannette Cooperman, staff writer
