I sat in my teacup this week watching the families around me laugh and spin, arms in the air, and as carefree as ever. And that’s when it hit me. It’s stability. Something that hasn’t changed in a world where everything has changed.
Sure, we were all wearing masks and dutifully sanitized our hands before and after. But there were beloved (likely motion-sick prone) family members around the outside edges, smiling and waving as they recorded the glee of their loved ones having a tea party together. There were those who sought to spin out of control and those who enjoyed a more leisurely tea.
But most of all there was normalcy. And that has been missing far too much this year.
There’s something about the stability of Disney that is critical to the core of our being. It’s why we get upset when they change a favorite ride, and why it feels unbearable when our favorite food item disappears of the menu (which has been too many in this pandemic, let me tell you!). Or the uneasiness we all felt over the new pink-hued castle (you can let me know your thoughts about that in the comments!)
Even though we know Walt said it will be ever-changing, we secretly hope it won’t. Because the unchanging state of being at the parks allows us to still be that child we once were, but somehow lost along the way. Like maybe we just left our childhood selves on Dumbo and we get to rejoin them every time we take flight, if only for a moment.
Perhaps that’s why the parks being closed this year has felt more traumatic. If Disney has shuttered its gates, somehow that makes our crisis more real, and more terrifying.
Those who aren’t Disneyphiles have mocked those who would lament the closing of a “theme park” during a pandemic and ridiculed those who braved the reopening. But what they fail to realize is that Disney is a piece of who we are as a culture. It’s our place of celebration. Of reunion. Of joy. Of hope. That’s what we lost when Disney closed. Hope.
This year has done nothing but change. And if we are honest, most of the changes have not been enjoyable ones. Yes, we’ve slowed down and spent more time with family (a definite benefit), but we’ve also stayed up late worrying about our health. Our safety. Our humanity.
I suggest, dear Disney friends, that we all take a virtual ride on the teacups (or watch from the sidelines with a churro if you can’t take the spinning). Remember those parts of yourself that you reclaim when you visit the parks, and see if you can find them wherever you are today.
