My daughter was in a foul mood yesterday, channeling some particular frustration toward her mother, the closer target that morning. Like most four year olds (or so I presume) she was being obstinate about something or other, sitting rigid in full pout, arms crossed, a quiet fury beneath her brow. My wife endured the silent treatment long enough and checked back in on her: "How are you feeling, love?". Our daughter declined the olive branch and unlike most four year olds (I presume?), with eyes radiating sarcasm, her words acerbic and measured. "Take a guess...", she suggested, with a disconcerting intensity.
At the shop this past week, I confess that I've felt like an ass too many times to count now. A friendly inquiry somehow feeling like my foot in my mouth. As folks step up to the bar or bring bottles to the register, it's my usual habit to check in with the simplest, common question: How are you today? And what was once a quick and friendly exchange now brings a pause. Or a frankness I can appreciate. Pretty fucking terrible is not an uncommon response now.
It's been a brutal week - on top of a brutal year (Or two. Or six..). And I find I don't have the words anyone wants to hear, certainly not at a shop register. But in the past several days I've shared more eye contact - with regulars, friends, and so many strangers - for much longer than ever before. With many who just paused to shake their heads, after a no longer innocuous How's it going?, and looked up at me to communicate their despair. I've seen, acknowledged, and shared the sadness. The rage. The dejection. The injustice.
It feels distasteful, unpalatable at times like this, to sell wine - or to sell anything, I suppose. Callous to call attention to a holiday celebrating independence, with liberties and independence being taken from so many. So we won't talk fireworks or push picnics and Pinot. Just know that we are on your side and we are here for you. With you. We'll always check back in. Will continue to ask how you are doing and are OK with any answer, or none at all. Should you decide that gathering this weekend may be cathartic, or elect to celebrate some small joys, we'll be here when you need us. And should you decide that wine is welcome, or offers some respite, we are here to help, as always, in the humblest of ways.
In solidarity,
Daniel