From Rachel Toor
And we’re back. Hello, 2026. Please try to treat us better than your predecessor did.
In the dawning of this age of AI, it’s more important than ever to pay attention to what makes good prose good. Fifteen years ago I wrote a love letter to Orwell’s “Politics and the English Language” that seems sadly more relevant now than ever.
And to the horror of English teachers everywhere, I also confessed a deep and abiding adoration for Strunk and White. I appreciate the first author’s bossiness and delight in his student’s playful wit.
To start off this new year, I offer a 1973 letter from that sprightly man called Andy by his friends.
Dear Mr. Nadeau:
As long as there is one upright man, as long as there is one compassionate woman, the contagion may spread and the scene is not desolate. Hope is the thing that is left to us, in a bad time. I shall get up Sunday morning and wind the clock, as a contribution to order and steadfastness.
Sailors have an expression about the weather: they say, the weather is a great bluffer. I guess the same is true of our human society—things can look dark, then a break shows in the clouds, and all is changed, sometimes rather suddenly. It is quite obvious that the human race has made a queer mess of life on this planet. But as a people we probably harbor seeds of goodness that have lain for a long time waiting to sprout when the conditions are right. Man’s [sic] curiosity, his relentlessness, his inventiveness, his ingenuity have led him into deep trouble. We can only hope that these same traits will enable him to claw his way out.
Hang on to your hat. Hang on to your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.
Sincerely,
[Signed, E. B. White]
***
When a president confessed that if she had to sit through one more women’s leadership session to hear about self-care she might hit someone, I thought, Right there with you, sister.
At this point, those of us who have been around a few professional blocks don’t need to be told what to do to feel better. If we haven’t learned that by now, we wouldn’t hold the positions we’ve attained.
Like many, I suffer from migraines. It’s an invisible chronic illness, though I’ve always had friends who can take one look at me and know I have a headache. Joan Didion also suffered from the “physiological error called migraines” and had, as I suspect many presidents do, a “migraine personality.”
In December I went through a particularly bad bout that landed me in urgent care a couple of times and was feeling sorry for myself. That is, until I talked to a president friend who has it even worse than me, as you’ll see below. When I was with a president suffering from a crippling (literal) pain in the neck, I marveled to watch her work the room as if she’d just come from a day at the spa. That inspired me and gave me another insight into how tough y’all need to be to do this work.
Wind the clock, friends.
