Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Saving the World: One Bee at a Time
We went to Grapeseed in Bethesda, just to go "uptown," since the covens usually take place downtown. Suzanne, Susie, Glenda, Moira and I were there. Holly was en route to or from Bogata--I sent her a link to Michelle's site and she said I made her day because she has the exact same shelf of religious little dudes. Mary also could not make it and Hope was there, in absentia--we talked about you, ladyfriend! Everyone loves your site.
The conversation started off, surprisingly enough (for me) about this website. We discussed the contretemps over a recent post and they said I overreacted (IMPOSSIBLE!). I was so, um, heartened to hear from my friends on this initiative because they don't comment on it--in posts I mean--so it was good to know they are listening.
We talked about the difficulty of incremental revolution, the disappointments of the Democratic party--none of us likes Hillary--everyone, but me, is in for a multiparty system. (When I brought that up with State senate candidate Jamie Raskin on Sunday he said, "How about if we get the two party system to work?")
I told the ladies how I'd been "working" in the garden with MZA--he is building a trellis out back--and he rigged this string with a rock tied to the end of it for me to use as a level while he poured concrete around the posts. I felt like Fred Flintstone. I had to hold the string, pressed against the wood, to see if the rock dangled evenly.
I said, "How did you come up with this?"
He said, "It's physics, baby."
I watched him out in the yard--so thoughtful, concentrating, and I thought one of the many reasons why I love him is that he doesn't have that typical (American) male swagger of condescension and "little lady" pedantry.
He was sweating and concentrating and so I looked at him and said, "You're sexy." More to break his intense concentration, than for an insatiable desire kind of thing. You know.
He said, "Is that all you think about? Sex?"
I said, "Yeah."
He paused, then he looked up, beaming, and said, "Hey! Me too!"
Then, as he was pouring concrete into the final post, I looked down and saw some kind of bee-like creature struggling in the concrete.
I said, "Hey! There's a bee down there!"
He got a twig and tried to help the bee out of the cement hole, but he couldn't get it. So he waived his hand over the impromtu bee grave and intoned a Russian blessing--just then, the bee emerged again and he got the twig and helped him out.
I recounted this to the ladies, amid all of our fine talk about revolution, making a genuine difference, and civic and moral responsibility. They had been talking of their immediate involvement in making changes to the world, and I had been bemoaning my revolutionary inertia. They excused me because of the kids and work gig. It was cold comfort because I need to do more--especially in protest of this war, which I have been against since the moment it was publically broached.
When I told them the bee story, Susie said, "Hey! You are saving the world--one bee at a time!" |
Cynicism is another word for reality