Like Virginia O’Hanlon’s (of “Yes, Virginia” fame) father once said of the New York Sun, if Merriam-Webster or Oxford says something is true then it is. And the estimable online dictionaries state unequivocally that the word “hope” is not just a noun (n- desire accompanied by expectation of obtaining what is desired or belief that it is obtainable) but indeed a verb, albeit a transitive one (v- to express desire for a specific outcome).
Yes, I cherry-picked the definitions that most aligned with the purpose of this column and yes, I had to Google to remind myself what a transitive verb is (the nuns who taught me grammar would not be pleased).
My layman’s summary is that a transitive verb means that the action being taken can’t exist in a vacuum; it has to act on something. The example I saw — “he runs a company” — illustrates the point. “Runs,” in this context, is meaningless without “company.” (Not to be confused with the intransitive version — “he runs every day” — in which “runs” is most decidedly an action on its own. Ah, the rules of the English language, it’s a wonder any of us ever learned them even under threat of a ruler.)
Here’s a more relevant (to this column) example: The onset of spring weather has all our hopes (n) up that sunshine will exceed showers in the typically rainy month of April. But we can’t just hope (v) our nascent vegetable gardens flourish; we have to take action to help them do so (compost, watering etc.).
At a recent gathering around a mahjong table (more on that in a moment), someone told me they enjoyed my column, and a stranger sitting nearby asked me what my columns were about. Hesitating just for a moment, I answered, “Hope” and “living optimistically.”
“Well, we can use more of that,” she responded.
Yes, we can.
But it is not enough to sit around and hope for a better future, either personally or more broadly. We have to do something to bring hope’s promise to fruition. So I’ve been looking around for examples of hope in action. The good news? There are plenty.
Let’s start with the No Kings rallies. Stay with me here even if you, like me, don’t attend them. Two friends who do told me that the vibe at those events, big like the recent nationwide ones in March or small like the hardy bands who stand out in Marblehead Swampscott most weekends, are joyful. I was surprised to hear that, expecting more of the anger and frustration marking most political enterprises these days. “When a car drives by and honks in support, it makes me feel hopeful,” one of the attending friends remarked.
Those who handmake their signs and don their sneakers to fight for a better country are using hope as a verb.
I feel the same way about Mark Ferrante’s letters to the editor in this paper. His language can be polarizing, but his overall point that conservatism is not the deal with the devil many on the progressive left make it out to be is an important one. And he is doing this community a service by putting his name behind his beliefs, as opposed to sniping in the shadows of social media. Ferrante is putting hope into action.
Off of politics, spring is called the season of hope for a reason because we do hopeful things in late March, April, May and early June. We clean up winter’s debris, repairing what the weather wrought. We step outside to simply feel the sun on our face, as I saw a worker do outside a town storefront last week. He just stood there, face tilting upward, absorbing the warmth. Hope can be exhibited in the smallest of actions.
Hope also is the heart of wisdom. Who wasn’t moved and buoyed when astronaut Victor Glover reflected on the recent Artemis mission, “Trust us, you look amazing, you look beautiful, and from up here you look like one thing. Homo sapiens are all of us; no matter where you’re from or what you look like, we’re all one people.”
Hope can take the form of games, even superstitions, too. The astronauts played a game of cards right before their mission to ward off bad luck and ensure a successful journey. It would have been fun if they’d chosen instead to play mahjong, which seems to be the Rubik’s Cube craze of this era. I’m brand new to it (and barely understand it) but isn’t it an act of hope to seek out social connection around a pile of tiles when we could just as easily stay home and watch Netflix?
As our town, our state, our country enter a volatile political season, may our debates be civil, our respect for each other manifest and our actions hopeful. Which is using hope as an adverb. What a versatile, wonderful, powerful word and even more so, way of being in this beautiful world.
