Teachable, telling, magic and missed moments
“Moment” is clearly having a moment. Has there ever been a word that has taken on so many guises?
We often speak of someone having a moment. Comedian Hannah Gadsby, for example. Denzel Washington’s sons. Hedy Lamarr. (I know she has been dead for 18 years. Moments come back.) We also hear about teachable moments. My 77-year-old friend was recently complaining about a broken shoulder when his housekeeper’s 8-year-old son, who uses a wheelchair, said, “You just have to be patient.” That’s teachable. There are the magic moments: when you find the love of your life across the dance floor. When your first child is born.
Perhaps most relevant — or of the moment — there are the telling ones, when we’re required to quickly decide between right, wrong or silence. Do we report the student we know cheated on a test? Or a serious lie or abuse we witnessed? Do we halt an offensive joke?
Sometimes, we don’t realize the importance of a moment until long after it’s over. When “Hammerin’” Hank Greenberg refused to play a big game on a Jewish holiday, Detroit Tigers fans resented his decision. Greenberg couldn’t possibly have predicted that we’d remember his observance perhaps more than his major league achievements. Actress Ashley Judd did not expect, when she said no to Harvey Weinstein, that she would become a symbol for a movement.
History, recent and distant, is filled with such moments, in which people traded — often unknowingly — short-term career setbacks for long-term respect. Those who ended up on the Hollywood blacklist in the middle of the last century paid a steep price professionally but, ultimately, were less bruised than those who named names, like Jerome Robbins and Elia Kazan. In the 2008 presidential race, when Sen. John McCain grabbed a supporter’s microphone to stand up for his opponent’s patriotism, he may have lost votes, but I’ll bet he slept well that night.
Richard Nixon erroneously called Helen Gahagan Douglas “pink right down to her underwear” in their 1950 California Senate race. During the Watergate scandal, Douglas was asked whether she felt vindicated. At that moment, she could have taken her revenge. “He had his victory and I had mine,” that classy lady said.
There are countless less public examples of men and women who took an immediately brave action, consequences be damned. A few decades ago, a Los Angeles attorney I know (who preferred to remain anonymous) snagged a big client: a New York real estate titan seeking legal help in taking over the Ambassador Hotel. But when the attorney had his first conference call with Donald Trump, and heard him berate a female associate, he told Trump he would not work with him. Even after the associate called back to say that “he always feels he has to intimidate people like me to impress people like you,” the lawyer gave up the client.
Right now, the headlines are filled with those who will have to look back at moments when they made decisions out of greed, ego or fear. Michael Cohen appears to have traded his integrity for the sake of his most famous client, the man who intimidated to impress and who is now our president. Richard Gates sold his soul for the enticements of Paul Manafort and Co. Weinstein and his brethren enjoyed way too many moments that, under the most generous possible interpretation, they apparently misread. Americans are forgiving, and they love comebacks, but those guys should not hold their breaths.
For all the moments that happen, equally important are the ones that don’t, the missed moments. Ivanka Trump, an allegedly devoted mother and feminist, steered clear of the family separation crisis. John F. Kelly, Trump’s chief of staff, related an untruthful anecdote about a black congresswoman instead of admitting a possible misstep by his boss. The president refused to honor McCain at a recent signing ceremony, even though the senator’s name was on the bill he signed.
Can good people act badly in key moments? Probably. Can bad people turn around and have good moments? Hopefully.
Few of us become public figures or official whistleblowers. Yet in our daily lives, we can still choose to favor our better angels. Call me Capra-esque, but I sense people quietly rebelling against the dark mood out there, actively seeking out moments to prove to the world, and to themselves, that they can make the right call. It’s no coincidence that millions are flocking to see a documentary about Mr. Rogers. As Bill Moyers, who has witnessed many momentous moments, said recently, “We need to find the best of ourselves in the worst of times.”