I went to my 102-year-old grandmother’s funeral last week, and it set me thinking about the future. My dad delivered a eulogy centered around her moving him and his siblings into their house in 1952. At the time, the place was freezing cold—my dad grew up in Middlesbrough, in Yorkshire. But grandma got busy making some food for her children, and they soon forgot about the cold. She and my granddad would live in that house for 60 years before he died in 2012. She moved into a nursing home a few years later. Then, by the time grandma went, she was ready to join her husband, telling staff at the nursing home as much. So: Rest in peace, grandma. I always enjoyed your provocative conversation and of course, watching snooker with you. Your millionaire’s shortbread was off-the-hook.
Right now, my future is uncertain. If you’re enjoying the latest political developments it would surprise me. I’ve heard from several readers over recent weeks in various states of anxiety. Many of us are wondering what might happen next. But that’s the nature of the future. It’s indiscernible. Ask yourself, “what does the future hold?” I can guarantee that whatever you answer—unless it’s death and taxes—is a shot in the dark. In that uncertainty there is real hope, and I am holding onto it. I would urge you to, too.
I can’t imagine my father ever thinking in that kitchen, as a five-year-old, that one day he’d have a son in London. Or that one day his son would be living and working in New York City with a wife and child of my own. I have no idea what my own future holds. As my son approaches his fourth birthday, it’s as difficult for me to think 50 years ahead. Right now I’m most focused, for example, on paying for our rent and health insurance! But at least it’s warm in our apartment, thanks to the steam heat in our building. I’m very grateful for that—especially because it goes out sometimes and we have to call them to come and fix it.
I am also old enough to be able to look back on times in my life where the future was uncertain. I left a job before COVID started and had no idea how I was going to earn a living. I lived in California for three and a half years without a sense of what might come next. I worked as a reporter in New Orleans covering law enforcement corruption. I survived the 7/7 terrorist attacks in London in 2005. If you had asked me at any of those points, “what’s next?” I would have told you I had no idea. I’ve always been a bit anxious about the future. But I’ve also learned that worrying doesn’t shape it. You must trust that on some level you’ll rise to the challenges ahead, and that you’re capable. Meanwhile it’s important to do the things that interest you, that call to you on some level.
It’s ironic that my grandmother’s cousin became a famous psychic. Maurice Woodruff made a fortune in the 1960s publishing books. I even bought one of them, “The Secrets of Foretelling Your Own Future.” He became a close confidant to “Pink Panther” start Peter Sellers and drove a gold Rolls Royce. I’m sorry to say that while he’s a distant relation, I’m also 100% sure granny’s cousin was a con artist. I’m not proud that he preyed on Inspector Clouseau’s manic depressive tendencies. He sold an uncertain man a sense of certainty and I am sure he knew it was all nonsense.
For a while I tried day-trading stocks and wrote a journal where I wrote down my reason for every trade. It turned out I was incapable of predicting anything. Anyone who tells you they can see what’s coming up is a fantasist. It’s the height of arrogance.
Meanwhile, now is always a good time for blind faith. Amen.
Matt Davis is a strategic communications consultant in Manhattan.
