Breaking Bread with the Dead: A Reader's Guide to a More Tranquil Mind

by Alan Jacobs

Something like this, it seems to me, is the fate of all social improvements, as much as we hate to admit it—and we do. Nothing is more intrinsic to human nature than the desire to believe that benefits can and do come without costs, that we can fix certain problems without introducing new ones. We certainly don’t want to admit that to those who would oppose productive change, lest we give them leverage to argue that the change shouldn’t have been made at all.* I grew up in Birmingham, Alabama, during the most intense days of the civil rights movement, days of rage and heroism, and in a family that was badly wounded by alcoholism and violence. Through most of my childhood my father was in prison, and my mother worked long hours to keep us financially afloat; my world was narrow and limited and showed no signs of broadening. I am therefore enormously grateful for a social order that allowed me economic and professional mobility, that showed me open doors and encouraged me to go through them. But I would be lying to you and deceiving myself if I denied that that mobility came with costs. I have not had the intimacy with family that my parents and grandparents had; I have not known lifelong friendships. When I say this I do not wish my life to be different, but it is good for me to face what I have missed, if for no other reason than to help me find appropriate compensations and consolations.