What's Been the Best Part of Your Day?

In the Twin Cities, it's been hard to watch what's happening in our neighborhoods. You see it in the way people are moving through their day—more cautious, fearful, and on edge. It's easy to feel helpless and overwhelmed. At the same time, I've noticed something that's been genuinely good to see: neighborhood social media groups looking out for each other, sharing resources, checking in, and offering help in small, practical ways. I can't help but think back to a practice I started years ago.

It happened by accident. Someone I cared about was in deep grief, and I found it difficult to summon any words of comfort.

So instead, I simply asked: "What's been the best part of your day?"

It's not a cure. It won't solve grief, fear, or stress. But it works differently than "How are you?" It asks for a specific answer. It invites someone to scan the day and name one thing that wasn't all bad.

Maybe the coffee was good. Maybe a stranger held the door. Maybe the sun hit the snow just right and everything looked peaceful for a second. The answer doesn't have to be profound. What matters is the act of looking.

Fred Rogers famously said that in frightening times we should "look for the helpers." That advice matters because it points us back to community. But I've been thinking that looking isn't enough. We also have to be the helpers—not always in big, dramatic ways, but in small, repeatable ones.

That's what this question can do, at its best. It doesn't ask someone to pretend they're fine. It doesn't demand optimism. It simply invites them to hold two truths at once: today has been hard, and there was still something in it worth naming.

That isn't toxic positivity. It's a practical way to keep fear from taking over.

I've asked this question of friends in grief, coworkers overwhelmed by work, and people who seemed like they needed someone to notice them. The answers are rarely grand. "My kid made me laugh." "I finally finished a project at work." "Dinner was good." "Honestly, this conversation."

I'm not naive. A question can't fix systemic problems. It can't undo policy decisions or relieve every fear people are carrying. But communities make it through difficult eras by tending to each other in small ways, and by refusing to let anxiety isolate us from one another.

There are many ways to respond to uncertain times: organize, vote, call representatives, support local groups doing legal work, show up, advocate, listen. Those things matter. This is simply one additional tool that costs nothing and can change the tone of a conversation.

Ask your partner. Ask a coworker. Ask the neighbor whose name you keep meaning to learn.

"What's been the best part of your day?"

Then listen. Let the answer be small. Let it be honest.

It won't solve everything. But it can help keep people connected to themselves and to each other. And in times like these, that is not a minor thing.