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Now, though, "I think people do sense we may be close to the bottom or at the bottom," Bell says. Americans, though, despise uncertainty. This nation has always
dreamed big, but also has long shown a preference for tidy,
digestible outcomes. Subtlety is squishy. For that kind of society,
cloudy tomorrows are intolerable. And for many people, the worry
about what might happen is as disorienting as the things that
actually do. Craig Marker, director of the Anxiety Treatment Center at Nova Southeastern University in Florida, has seen an increasing number of clients who are fretting about matters economic, even if they're not directly affected. But many are coping, and Marker describes the response he's seeing as the "psychological immune system" kicking in. In other words, mental antibodies are attacking the sense of economic vertigo. "The initial worry came from thinking of the Depression, people out on the streets
-- `I don't want to lose everything I have,'" Marker says. "But the worst-case scenario didn't happen immediately. So we bounce back." This is a time, too, when that national character trait, the one about Americans being the sort of folk who pull themselves up by their bootstraps, is useful. President Herbert Hoover called it "rugged individualism," the notion that a country of immigrants who generally came here under less-than-optimal conditions is better equipped to handle itself when challenges emerge. If it's true, great. If it isn't -- well, then it's certainly a useful mythology for the age. "We get very worried about it, but we do have this sense that we'll be fine," Marker says. "Maybe as a culture we have an additional component to that psychological immune system: We've pulled through many things before, and we'll pull through this." In the end, mood is about as individual a trait as they come. Politics matter. Obama backers are more likely to believe in the coming days than do his detractors. Someone who just lost a job is not necessarily going to think things are about to get better. Citizens of places that the meltdown has spared have more fodder for optimism. That's what seems to be happening for the customers of brothers Chris and Jim O'Meally, who opened a restaurant and wine bar last summer on the border of Berkeley and Oakland, Calif. At first, their customers were anxious about the economy. Now, talk has turned from jobs lost to what the future holds. Roll up your sleeves. Get on with it. A psychological immune system, perhaps kicking in at last. "At heart, we're all entrepreneurs and we all have schemes of how we're going to live differently and make a lot of money," says Dawson, the literary agent. "We've all been trained to believe no pain, no gain. I think this is forcing a lot of people to make decisions they wouldn't have made if they hadn't been forced to rethink things." Mood feeds on itself. How many times have you heard that a smile is infectious? In 2009 America, that's not merely a greeting-card slogan. It might just be a plan, too.
[Associated
Press;
Copyright 2009 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This
material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or
redistributed.
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