Thinking About Scale
Our family’s best times were in Carmel. We put aside our troubles when we went there. When I was in junior high school, my pal Cherie came to Carmel with her mother, and our families had dinner together. Through some twist of fate, Cherie ended up there permanently with her husband David. They have now hosted me many more times than I ever went with my family.
A few weekends ago, Paul and I visited there with our good pals Forrest and Mari to celebrate Paul’s birthday. We ate lunch overlooking the ocean, and I took too many slices of salami from the bountiful buffet. This is because I first ate good salami from Carmel’s Mediterranean Market (which closed in 2002). Those thin slices of cured meat brought back long-ago picnics on the beach, and I could smell the sea (and some guano from Bird Rock) and let the sound of the waves wash off the sadness of the last weeks and years. On a later walk up into Carmel Highlands, I started thinking about scale and our recent tragedies. Coming down from global scale to the local, to the immediate, is one way to cope right now.
The COVID pandemic was international in scale, and mistakes were made everywhere. However, some of the solutions were found at the most local level. Put on a mask, wash your hands, stand apart. What was so beautiful about this was that, while you were protecting yourself, you were helping others. Lives were saved because first responders were helping the individual in front of them. Eventually, global solutions were found, but our survival also depended on one person helping another right in front of them. This is what we need to remember.
I wrote that I was thankful that Joe Biden was president right now and not Donald Trump. Heaven knows I don’t agree with Biden on everything, but he is acting rationally in the face of disasters created in large part by fascists. Trump is not President because a majority of the individuals acted at a small scale—with their single vote. That saved the world from a maniac (someone my pal Robert calls a #PutinRepublican to put it all together).
And now, what hope can we find in this genocide taking place in Ukraine? One person can send money to Doctors without Borders or International Rescue Committee or other legitimate causes or post the beautiful New Yorker cover of President Zelinsky on social media. But what else? It is important to share the beautiful moments of compassion, caring, and risk that individuals are making. Mothers in Poland are leaving baby strollers at train stations for Ukrainian refugees. European families are opening their homes to help house those who have fled. A Russian journalist holds a sign on Russian television proclaiming “Stop War,” and her story goes viral. This bravery gives us hope and reminds us of the power of individual kindness. Share it, receive it. When Ukrainian refugees land here, we will give whatever appropriate resources are asked for. At this scale, the small individual gesture matters.
The other night, my goddaughter came to dinner with a longtime friend of hers. Both of them are pursuing careers that will help mitigate climate change. They are not naive, but they are hopeful that their individual work will matter. They both brought hostess gifts. My goddaughter brought a delicious bottle of chardonnay, and her friend brought two small ceramic pieces that she had made herself. Share your gifts, whatever or wherever they are. It’s the way we will get through this.
