The Christmas trees are down, the decorations put away. Some of the long-awaited toys are being played with – others, not so much. But as long as the toymakers got our money, they’ll be happy, right?
Maybe not. A few years ago, the American journalist David Pogue conducted a fascinating interview with Melissa and Doug Bernstein – known for their billion dollar toy brand, ‘Melissa & Doug’. They specialise in high quality, low-tech toys, and despite the advent of screens and smartphones, had just recorded their 32nd straight year of growth.
On the face of it, Melissa has it all: a loving husband, six high-achieving children and four homes – including a 38,000-square-foot mansion with its own bowling alley, basketball court, and arcade. She says: ‘I can certainly admit that I have enjoyed the material trappings that come from being successful, all those material rewards that make us feel that we’ve “made it”’.
Yet you may have guessed there’s a ‘but’ coming.
Melissa went on to say: ‘From my earliest recollections, I felt that something was profoundly wrong deep within my being. Why am I here? What is the meaning of life if we are all ultimately going to die? I felt utter despair’.
For most of her life, she hid this ‘existential depression’. Her only therapy was writing what she calls ‘verses’. As a 5-year-old she wrote: ‘I am fearful, oh so fearful, if you do not show me light, I will lose the will to live, and choose to end this futile fight’.
From the age of 11 she would battle with various eating disorders: ‘I controlled everything I could control since I could not control my thoughts’. For close to a year, when at college, she carried a bottle of pills everywhere, carefully researched to be able to stop her heart.
Finally, she sought help. She shares her story in the self-published book ‘Lifelines’, which contains some of the 3,000 ‘verses’ she had written, but never showed to anyone before. An accompanying website offers help to other sufferers. The front of the book proclaims Melissa’s goal: ‘Today I saved a life, although it was my very own, which won’t serve a greater purpose till I rescue lives unknown.
Melissa’s story is instructive in several ways. As Pogue commented, we may assume that ‘consumption makes you happy, money makes you happy’ – but here’s someone who had it all and was still miserable. Indeed, as a society we have more than previous generations could have dreamed of, but as Melissa says, ‘the next pandemic is depression’.
Yet Melissa’s story is perhaps not as hopeful as it seems on the surface.
The sceptic who visits her website – which Pogue said ‘might end up saving lives’ – is immediately presented with the option to ‘Explore Products’, such as essential oil diffusers. It seems less a lifesaving resource, more just another way to make money.
But even if her motivations are completely philanthropic, those who remember how the story began will notice that Melissa never answered the questions that tortured her from childhood: ‘Why am I here? What is the meaning of life if we are all ultimately going to die?’
Pogue said of ‘Lifelines’ – ‘there may be people who owe their continued existence to this enterprise’. Melissa’s book proclaims her goal to ‘rescue lives unknown’. But what neither of them address is why that’s important. Why are lives worth saving, if we’re all ultimately going to die?
This is a time of year when many are despairing. It’s hard not to notice the frequent news reports of young, healthy people dying suddenly, with no cause of death given.
What can give them – and all of us – hope? I would suggest the answer is indeed found in verses – not the 3,000 written by Melissa, but the 31,102 in the Bible. The verse numbers themselves are not part of the original text, but added much later. In fact, they can sometimes mask the fact that the Bible is a story – which is why, in recent years, some Bible publishers have begun printing ‘Reader’s Editions’ without them.
The Bible’s story answers the questions that have tortured Melissa and others for so long: Why am I here? Why do we have the sense that something has gone profoundly wrong? Is there any hope?
Melissa’s story may save some from thinking that ‘stuff’ will satisfy. But finding true hope requires finding our place in a deeper, truer, story. It can give what her book can only promise: ‘an inspirational journey from profound darkness to radiant light’.
Published in the Stranraer & Wigtownshire Free Press, 9th January 2025
