A Baby for Mad and Jen

Do you know what, I am inordinately proud of myself about my New Year's Resolutions this year.

In the midst of getting a divorce, I managed to keep four out of five. (I dropped the shopping limit one when it became obvious that I would be setting up a new household--but up until the move I did pretty well.)

I wrote a book (first draft, but I'm finishing this thing whether I ever publish it or not).

I read way more than two science books.

I began exercising again and kept it up, five or six days a week, all through the move--and even when the elliptical machine broke and it took me three months to get a replacement.

I even broke the back of the Diet Coke thing. I think. Knock on wood. I'm down to less than one can a day.

Given everything that's happened this year, and there's a whole hell of a lot I haven't shared because it is not bloggable, you know something? That is pretty good. There is only one resolution I didn't manage to keep: more activism.

Oh yeah. Ouch.

My intentions were good, back in January. There was the magazine and the Just Posts and all the rest of it--then the separation came along, and my eyes focused on the world just past the end of my nose, and it wasn't that I didn't care about anything that happened to the rest of the world--I just didn't care enough, in the context of what I was dealing with, to make myself do something. Oh sure, plenty of lifestyle changes on the environmental side, and a fair smattering of posts on my favourite issues, and a lot of reading. But not the kind of concrete action that makes me feel like I am putting my money where my mouth is.

So when Mad said that she often feels disheartened about the impact of the Just Post Roundtable series, I know exactly what she means. All of these words bouncing around in the ether--what are they good for? Have they put food in anyone's belly? Needed medicines in one hand? A roof over one head? Maybe, but gods only know, really. It can feel futile. Futile and trivial and wasteful. How dare I sit here in my comfortable chair in a nice warm house pounding keys with my fingers when there are people starving out there!

But here is what Mad and Jen's social justice wedding has meant to me, over the past year; and since I was the maid of honour I think I'm allowed to get a little maudlin.

It gives me hope.

Not hope that all the world's problems will be solved by Wednesday next as a result of this blogging project; not even hope that the direct impacts of it will be significant or even measurable. But hope that when life got to be too much and I had to put my light down for a while, someone else picked it up and carried on for me, until I could take it back again. Hope that no matter what it feels like every day, when the (mostly corporate) messages we are surrounded with every day are almost entirely about products or gizmos or fashion styles or celebrities or the salacious use of someone else's tragedy or a bunch of old rich white guys pretending to care for the cameras--and there is almost nothing out there about other people who care or all the small individual things they are doing to make the world a better place, no matter how much it feels like I am the only one, that I am not the only one. There are millions of you, and you are all out there doing your small things too, and no one is paying any attention but it doesn't matter, it all adds up; I feel better every day just knowing you're out there.

Hope is good all on its own; but it leads to more, too, I think. Hope plus conviction can equal courage; and courage leads to action. Small actions, maybe. Saying something in a conversation where you might not have said something before. A letter or email where you might not have written something before. (Speaking of which, isn't the first anniversary traditionally marked with a paper gift? Maybe this is an opportunity to write a letter, if you haven't before.) A donation that is slightly bigger than it used to be. A smile for someone who used to make you uncomfortable. Small things.

But small things can lead to big things. They don't, necessarily, but they can. Certainly without the small things, the big things won't happen either. We all have to start somewhere. But Mad, I share your frustration and desire to see something real come out of this--something that is not just words on a screen.

So I'm going to do that obnoxious thing that wedding guests start to do about a year after the wedding:

Where's the baby?

It's been a whole year; what are you waiting for? Are you going to give us a baby, or not?

OK, maybe the two of you have done enough work on this whole thing. Maybe the rest of us can give you a baby. What do you say, fellow guests? Is there some volunteer or activist gig you can commit to over the next year, to show Mad and Jen that this is not just bits and bytes, but that all the hard work they have put into this is making an impact somewhere?

It's fashionable to do fundraising gigs on the blogosphere--and I'm not knocking them, they're good and necessary and I've run one of my own. But let's do something different. Let's do an hoursraising gig. Let's each of us think about the next year and how many hours, over that year, we realistically think we can divert from TV and blogging and housework to something in the real world, something that is neither writing a cheque nor writing a post (but might be writing a letter). What do you think? Can we do it?

I'll take a risk and start.

Mad and Jen, to celebrate your wedding and all the work you've put into it, I'll commit to spending a few hours a month in an active volunteer role in my community. I'm thinking maybe at a women's shelter, but I'll have to poke around over the holidays and see what I can come up with. Let's say 2 hours a month minimum over twelve months--twenty-four hours. That's my gift back to you. Anyone who wants to participate, leave a comment, trackback in a post, or send an email to andrea at andreamcdowell dot com.

Happy Anniversary.

Posted by Andrea at December 12, 2007 12:51 PM under Friends and Others , The World

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