Failure in Real Time

So I had another failure this week. For once it wasn’t aliterary rejection, but instead the failure of a bond vote for building a newlibrary in our town. Of course it wasn’t my failure alone—I’m part of a committee—butit was nevertheless just as crushing as anything else for which you get yourhopes up. I really really want thisnew library. I just know it will be worth the struggle and the cost. That itwill be something that makes our town proud, that will make my children proudto come home.

So I’m feeling miserably disappointed that it got voted down.Yet, as with my many disappointments in the world of books, I can already feelmy spine stiffening because I know it means I have to work harder. Nothing worthhaving comes cheap. (Right?) 

For the library project and the hard things that have tohappen, I see in my future that I’ll be volunteering to go talk to theringleaders of the opposition. Not to persuade them to our side, but to hearthem out. Find out what kind of a project would have value for them. Give thema chance to get excited too—if that’s possible.  

Or, if not, if the people who want a library are forever outnumbered by the nonreaders who will never use it, well, then we have decisions to make. Is it still worth doing if it’s really really hard? If we have to try to raise the money with nomunicipal aid? It’s not impossible. It’s been done before. It’s just a crap-tonof work.  

But what do I learn about failure from it? I’m still figuring it out. One thing I do know already: I don’t want to feel like a quitter. So, whatever that means, I have to give it my best effort—as long as itdoesn’t come at too high a price for things I value even more.  

I feel OK about that for this first round of putting up abond vote. We really did work our butts off. We gave twenty or so talks toresidents, blanketed the town with information, made a 1000 phone calls. The vote didn’t fail because we didn’t do enough. The vote failed because people thought the cost too high.  

So while I’m still horribly disappointed, I can reach down deep and find I’m not feeling guilty about it. Which is no small feat, given myJewish mother gift for guilt.  We may not ever get this library—or at least not the one I’m excited for. But in the moment, I think I just have to figure out how to feel OK about the next round.  

Chin up. Soldier on.