Emily Articulated: Good news

By Emily Erickson
Reader Columnist

I’m often asked how I decide what to write about each week — whether I pull from a long-running idea list or simply hope inspiration arrives sometime before the morning of my deadline. Like most things, the answer is somewhere in between. I usually start with an intention, and then see what reveals itself.

This week, after several in a row filled with hard news — both in my own column and the stories surrounding it — I was determined to find something light or happy to write about. I thought of the news segments of my childhood, the ones where squirrels were taught to waterski, family dogs returned home after winding up several towns over or where an elderly man was given a surprise retirement by his community. (Which, not coincidentally, now make up 90% of my Instagram feed.)

With that intention came a kind of tuning in — a readiness to catch small pieces of good wherever they appeared. And, over the course of the week, they did show up, just in slightly different forms than I expected.

The first came with a quiet revelation, like tilting your head and suddenly seeing something familiar from a new angle. I was riding in the passenger seat, next to my partner, with our two slobbering pups in the back seat, and we took a detour to see if anyone had put up their Christmas lights — a quintessential “small town” evening activity. 

As we drove through town, the sparkling whites and blues, reds and greens glowed against the warm streetlamps and the dotted sky above. It occurred to me that holiday lights are mostly for everyone else, not the people who put them up.

By wrapping garland around deck posts, untangling last year’s knotted strands and craning necks to pin lights along the eaves (often with cold fingers and a questionable ladder), this activity is festive, yes, but also undeniably arduous. Yet people do it anyway, offering a little gift to anyone who happens to pass by. 

They may enjoy pulling into their driveway when someone beats them home and flips the switch, but the bulk of the joy is communal. It’s an act of generosity: a small, sparkling reminder that we share this place, together.

The next message came in the form of an interview with Vivian Tu, author and media personality, who said something so simple that again it stopped me — my brain clunking the message further into place. She shared that, “We often say, ‘It takes a village,’ but forget that if you want a village, you have to be a villager.” 

When asked to expand on that idea, she continued, “It’s about the little things. If you’re mowing your lawn, mow your neighbor’s. If someone’s having a hard time, reach out.” Basically, show up for people, and they’ll show up for you.

I liked this — not for the implied reciprocity, but for the invitation to participate in the kind of community I want to live in. I’ve heard (and believed) versions of this before, but something about the phrasing reframed it for me. Once it was in my mind, moments of “being a villager” began popping up everywhere: stopping to help a couple load their Christmas tree, picking up an extra bag of dog food for the BTAA bin, taking an extra moment to have a meaningful exchange with the person scanning my groceries.

This is an impulse I’ve always had, but one that gets stymied by how easily I slip into my own interior world. In the past few years, especially, my time alone has far eclipsed my time with others. Finding my way back to this mindset feels like returning to myself. 

Finally, the message was driven all the way home while watching my favorite holiday movie, Klaus. It’s set in the bleak northern town of Smeerensberg, where a spoiled trust-fund postal heir, Jesper, is forced to establish a postal system. When he arrives, he finds feuding families locked in generations of bitterness. But, through a series of unlikely events, he meets an old woodsman named Klaus, a gifted though bereaved and hermetic toy maker, and together they set off a chain reaction of kindness that transforms the entire town — and, incidentally, provides a beautiful origin story for Santa.

Throughout the film, Klaus’ guiding belief is, “A true selfless act always sparks another,” a perfect counterpart to Jesper’s cynical stance that “everyone is always out for themselves.” While it’s technically a children’s movie, the clarity of the message feels more relevant than ever. Generosity is transformative; it’s choosing to be a villager: showing up, reaching out and sharing light can change the tone of a place. Our instinct toward division is not, in fact, stronger than our instinct to care for one another.

It’s a simple message, maybe even obvious. But it came to me crystal clear, almost comically persistent. And honestly, that’s all the good news I could hope for.

Emily Erickson is a writer and business owner with an affinity for black coffee and playing in the mountains. Connect with her online at www.bigbluehat.studio.