“Evolution has led us to understand that a world built on love is our antidote to fear and selfishness; a world infused with community is our antidote to isolation; a world colored with beauty and justice is our antidote to the hard boot of oppression. Let us each stand for that world in our unique brilliance and creativity.”
—Stephen Dinan, Foreword to Barbara Marx Hubbard’s Birth 2012 and Beyond
I often speak in local retirement communities as part of my Science Ambassador mission. Recently, a man I’ll call Gary shuffled into the room pushing a walker, parking himself with a grunt in the front row. My spouse chatted with him while I set up. I caught a few bits: farming, truck-driving. I was too busy for tired-old-man stories.
I began my talk, reminding all to silence their phones. About halfway through my talk, Gary’s cell phone rang, loudly. To my annoyance, he answered it. Then, he began a slow, painful slog across the front of the room. Very disruptive, but what could I do? No big deal.
Two hours later and miles away, my phone rang. Gary, with one of my business cards. He apologized profusely for his “extraordinary rudeness during the talk.” I said it was no big deal. Honestly, I was in brush-off mode; just an old codger with issues, right? Until he explained.
Gary knew when he entered the room that he’d have to skip the Q&A because he had a Zoom meeting right afterward. The disruptive call during my talk was the Secretary of Agriculture, telling Gary that the international Zoom call had started an hour earlier than Gary thought, and he was needed.
Gary explained that the call involved high-level government officials from France, Germany, Australia—I don’t remember all of them—and that they were concerned about recent disruptions to global agricultural trade. They needed Gary’s perspective.
Gary and I talked a long time, a wonderful and welcome conversation, about politics, science, global cooperation, and the good or ill that can be effected by a single person in high office. Gary repeatedly apologized for interrupting my talk. I was humbled by his grace, and reflected for days on my dismissive attitude towards him initially.
I never asked him whether it was the Pennsylvania or U.S. Secretary of Agriculture, and it doesn’t matter. Gary was my well-timed reminder that whether they walk, shuffle, or wheel themselves into my life, every person I interact with matters.
The worth of people isn’t related to their age, ability, or living situation, whether that’s a mansion, a cardboard box, or a retirement community somewhere in Pennsylvania. Appearances can hide a whole universe of gifts and responsibilities. They almost always do.
Prayer
Spirit of inclusion and admiration, give me the grace and awareness to thoughtfully set aside the limiting assumptions of first impressions. Let me practice patient concern for every person I meet as a sacred child of the divine. Because they are.