Sunny skies and random acts

Bellingham Bay and boats

Yesterday morning, Melanie and I walked along Boulevard Park for our Saturday outing, and this lovely picture of sailboats anchored in Bellingham Bay caught my eye. The day was picture perfect, as you can see here, and we ended our five-mile walk with a trip to the Farmers' Market, where I figured I'd just take a few pictures of the produce. Instead, I decided to buy some homemade shortbread cookies, and we shared some as we went our separate ways. If I had it to do over again, I'd leave that purchase out, because I cannot resist those cookies and finished them over the course of the day. I'll pay for that indulgence on the scales.

An update on SG's progress: he's continuing to improve after the stroke three weeks ago, but he has a ways to go. Finally he's going outdoors for some walks, and he describes himself as feeling like Bambi, transported from a mountain meadow into the middle of New York traffic, where everything is loud and rushing by at breakneck speed. Each day he's a little better, though, and I see the progress in his continued improvement with joy and hope. He's a little bit like a baby bird that has just fledged, needing to find how to use its wings and trust them to fly. And I feel so impossibly proud of him as I stand by and watch.

Yesterday, as I sat outside our coffee shop enjoying our little spot in the shade, my friend John shared an article with me that I haven't been able to forget. He had actually sent it to me the night before, but I hadn't yet read it, so he suggested that I read it aloud right then, as he wanted to hear it again. It's rather long, but I was very moved by it and cannot stop thinking about the implications. It's written by an anthropologist who lives not far from me, over the Canadian border in Vancouver, BC. It's entitled "The Unraveling of America," and appeared in Rolling Stone Magazine. As an anthropologist who has studied many different cultures over the span of his career, he knows of what he writes.

He suggests that the Covid-19 pandemic will change the course of history and be one of those inflection points we all see in stories of past eras. He writes:

The COVID pandemic will be remembered as such a moment in history, a seminal event whose significance will unfold only in the wake of the crisis. It will mark this era much as the 1914 assassination of Archduke Ferdinand, the stock market crash of 1929, and the 1933 ascent of Adolf Hitler became fundamental benchmarks of the last century, all harbingers of greater and more consequential outcomes.

There is no way for us to know for sure how the pandemic will change the world, not from this vantage point anyway, but I believe that the young people of today will one day look back and see that this is when we began to come to the realization that we would never be able to "get back to normal." The social inequities I see everywhere around me are increasing, not decreasing. As I see more and more people in the streets without homes, and as they look out of their sleeping bags at a world that has left them behind, I wonder what separates me and my friend John from their fate. I am retired now, and I receive not only Social Security benefits from decades of working, but also annuities from a retirement plan I paid into for thirty years. It's the only thing that separates us. I no longer have to think about losing a job and having to try to find work where none exists.

I saw a young woman outside the grocery store yesterday, holding a sign clutched to her chest that said, simply, "NEED HELP." I talked with her for a few minutes, to find that she is living in a shelter, with little hope for the future, and she's trying to find a way to stay off the street. She's young and healthy enough to possibly not end up like so many of the older men I see walking with all their worldly belongings in a shopping cart. I know that when I was younger, there was not such a huge divide between those who have and those who have nothing. What has caused this inequity? And what can be done about it?

Sometimes I get very depressed about the state of the world, especially my country, but then I realize it does absolutely no good to wish things were different. Things will continue to evolve and change, and since I am old now, pushing the boundary of eighty, I know I won't be around to see the next phase of history. So what can I do, if anything, right now?

Constant kindness can accomplish much. As the sun makes ice melt, kindness causes misunderstanding, mistrust, and hostility to evaporate. —Albert Schweitzer

Oh. Right. Find ways to spread a little kindness into the world. Well, I can do that, and I can find people all around me who will benefit from my efforts to be kind. Today, for starters, I'll buy coffee for a stranger when I head to my favorite shop. I'll take whatever occasions that present themselves to notice where a little kindness might make a difference. I'll keep myself open to opportunities to enjoy the little things in life that make me happy. We are all connected, and if I'm happy, that will help you be a little happier, too.

It feels like the right thing to do, in fact maybe the only thing I can accomplish today. I just received a text from Lily, my dear friend who has moved away from the apartment complex, that she will be there this morning. That's just wonderful, and it gives me the impetus to cut this post short and get ready to start the rest of my day. I feel energized, just thinking about the day ahead, and all that I might be able to do to spread around a bit of kindness.

My dear partner still sleeps next to me, more quietly these days as he continues to improve, my tea is gone, and the day beckons. I always want to say thank you to all of my dear virtual community, because you brighten every one of my days. So many of you feel like family because, well, you ARE. You bring a smile to my face just to think of your presence as I finish this post and get ready to launch it out into the world. Be well, dear friends, until we meet again next week.