On the Turning Away

Last night Cathy and I went to see One Battle After Another, starring Sean Penn and Leonardo DiCaprio, directed by Paul Thomas Anderson. The film was good—really good. At times it was funny, but mostly it reflected everything that feels wrong with the world. It was heavy, the kind of film that leaves you walking out quieter than when you walked in.

Now, firmly in my middle age, I find myself sitting with that heaviness this morning. This is a note for the young people out there, the ones I hope will clean up the mess we inherited from our parents and, in many ways, have done little to repair. Apologies in advance for the weight of this, but I need to express some of the sadness and frustration I’m carrying today.

I’m Sorry

There are so many things I wish were different, and these are the things I want to apologize for:

• I’m sorry that when I see headlines about another mass shooting, like the one in Michigan this week, I don’t even click the article. It doesn’t feel newsworthy anymore because it happens so often.
• I’m sorry we adults have handed over trillions in national debt, with no real plan for how the next generation will climb out of it after we’re gone.
• I’m sorry we live in a world where the first thing many adults do before even getting out of bed is check their phones, then turn around and chastise you for being addicted to technology.
• I’m sorry that the people in charge have modeled a broken version of leadership, and that we’ve let it stand.
• I’m sorry for the adults who say “kids aren’t the same these days,” when the truth is that what’s changed is us. We used to be young and hopeful and optimistic, and now that we’re not, I believe we’re jealous of you all. And instead of fixing what’s broken, it feels easier to blame you. As Allison from The Breakfast Club said, “When you grow up, your heart dies.”
• I’m sorry that the majority of mass shooters are young white men, and that we don’t talk about this enough or make it a priority to create change and offer these men the much-needed support they need to reconnect with their humanity.
• I’m sorry we accept “the news” as truth, when in reality it’s often just the ten worst stories of the day.

Hope

From where I sit now, I know it doesn’t have to end this way. Cynicism and jadedness are choices. I wrestle with them every day, sometimes winning, sometimes losing.

Because there are good things happening every single day, even if they don’t make the news:

• Communities gathering to help each other.
• Young people challenging broken systems.
• Families finding joy in ordinary moments.
• Strangers offering kindness with no expectation of return.

The real danger isn’t in the battles themselves, it’s in giving up. It’s in letting hearts die and surrendering to the idea that nothing will ever change.

Young people deserve encouragement, and you deserve honesty about what older generations have failed to do. Your skills, creativity, and courage will carry forward the work left undone. It isn’t fair, but you often see more clearly than us adults who have given in to cynicism and resignation.

The hope is that, even in the face of “one battle after another,” you don’t lose the ability to see the good, to imagine a better way, and to keep your hearts alive. The world doesn’t just need you to endure the battles; it needs you to build something better.

The song “On the Turning Away” by Pink Floyd has always struck me as a rare, unflinching reflection on our role in shaping the world. It’s a reminder of what happens when we close our eyes to suffering. But the song is also a call to notice, to awaken, and to choose compassion over resignation. My hope is that your generation keeps turning toward, not away. Because that’s where change begins, and that’s where the future is waiting.

No more turning away

From the weak and the weary

No more turning away

From the coldness inside

Just a world that we all must share

It’s not enough just to stand and stare

Is it only a dream that there’ll be

No more turning away?