Tomatoes: Pay What You Want

Driving around rural Maryland this past weekend, I saw the lowest-key farm stand: a card table on the side of the road, with a plate of tomatoes and a big sign reading "Tomatoes. Pay What You Want."

It was the kind of experience that makes us nostalgic for a simpler time, or a smaller community, where we had that kind of trust in each other. But two ventures happening now--and not in rural Maryland!--make me wonder whether we aren't more trustworthy than we give ourselves credit for.

Panera, the sandwich cafe, has opened a non-profit branch in Clayton, MO where customers are invited to pay what they can (and volunteer their time if they can't pay at all). Here's an article about it: http://www.bizjournals.com/stlouis/stories/2010/05/17/daily21.html. The upshot is that it's working--people are mostly paying what the items go for in a regular Panera, and sometimes popping in a little extra to cover those who can't.

Then I read about a completely free store in New York City, where people are dropping off items they aren't using, and picking up what they need. Here's the article: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/16/nyregion/16free.html?_r=1.

The sign at that store reads "Take what you want. Share what you think others might enjoy (not limited to material items)." Seems as though if we try, we can put up that roadside stand anywhere we want.

Marriage equality, one pop culture moment at a time

I've been working this week to get ready for the Big Commit, a marriage equality rally in DC on Sunday afternoon. The rally is bringing together a number of gay rights and advocacy groups, and it will serve as a counter demonstration to the National Organization for Marriage's One Woman One Man summer tour.

I love a rally--the flags waving, the music, the great speakers. But I'm also aware that in the end, rallies aren't going to change the hearts and minds of America. That's what we have People magazine for.

Earlier this summer, I picked up an issue of People (a favorite escapist read for me). One of the human interest stories was about a woman with a rare and difficult to diagnose disease. The article followed her journey from doctor to doctor, the toll it took on her professional life, the light at the end of the tunnel now that she's received a diagnosis. Pretty standard stuff, and of course accompanied by a couple of photos, including the usual shot of the woman in the hospital, hand held by her spouse. Who was a woman.

The fact that this article featured a same-sex couple wasn't even noted; not a single line about their status, their families' opinions about the relationship, nothing to suggest that it was the least bit unusual. Because, of course, it isn't. And that's what gives me real hope: when People magazine thinks your same-sex relationship isn't the interesting part of your human interest.

Here's hoping I'll see you at the rally, and that in a few years we won't have to rally anymore.

Cold drink, anyone?

I write this post in beautiful weather, but the last few days have been just scorching--especially for those without power. Monday I drove around town doing errands, and I was struck by odd sensation of passing through powerless neighborhoods, with plenty of air conditioning and functioning street lights just across the road. The power grid works, apparently, in mysterious ways.

I was also struck by how patient the drivers were, how everyone brought out their best behavior for a day they knew would be a little hectic. At one of those powerless intersections, I watched as a small, woman police officer, working solo, directed a complicated traffic pattern. Her hand flipping up, then making a fist, then pointing, she looked like a uniformed conductor, leading a silent symphony of obedient musicians.

And then a car pulled up next to me, a delivery vehicle. It stopped a little fast for my taste, and I could see the driver lean out the window and begin to gesture to the police officer. Great, I thought. Here comes the wise guy, thinking he knows best when to go.

The police officer turned to him, and I tensed for the confrontation I could already see coming.

The police officer nodded briskly, and pointed toward the median. The delivery man darted out of his vehicle, and set down the cold drink he'd offered, complete with a straw. They waved, and he got back in his car, ready to follow her next instruction.

Sometimes people are just plain nice. The little tiny drama on Monday morning was a reminder to me not to be so surprised.

Ripping up the pansies

I've been thinking about all the wonderful words shared by our Coming of Age graduates this past Sunday, and especially about one young woman's story about learning that mistakes are okay. That learning is part of my ongoing journey, and I don't think I've figured it out yet!

But today I spent some time gardening with my father and we decided that the pansies, which had gotten leggy (not enough sun) and yellow (not enough water), really needed to go. We picked a few plants to save in a pot, but mostly turned the soil right over, raking through the green and preparing the bed for a new life with vinca minor--a much more appropriate choice for the location.

And it felt great! Almost as good as the time that I ripped out the half a sweater I'd been knitting, having finally accepted that the pattern just wasn't a good one. Somehow, even though making mistakes can feel scary, realizing mistakes and taking action to fix them feels great.

So I wonder if in some ways we can re-frame mistakes as solutions waiting to happen...and if that helps us to plant with abandon, knowing that we can always pull it up and turn over the earth if we did it wrong.

Filling the time...

I've always thought of myself as a multi-tasker in work settings, listening to my voice mail while I do a first glance at the mail and keep an eye out for any emails with those little red exclamation points. But I've realized in the past couple of days that I'm also a multi-tasker when it comes to rejuvenation...and that may not be such a good thing.

Like most of us, my busy days give me little pockets of time for mind breaks: three minutes to read an interesting article online, four minutes to drink my tea while looking at the comics, thirty seconds to admire my pansies before shutting the door and starting dinner. This week, though, I'm spending time up at my parents' house between speaking engagements and I suddenly find myself with a whole 30 minutes and nothing planned. It's too long to fritter away checking the Washington Post online, but not long enough to dive into a novel.

I've already picked up a book of short stories, but I want to invite you to think with me about what else I--and we--could do during these longer-than-a-blog-post moments. I'm challenging myself to find ways to be quiet this summer: to take those thirty minutes and just sit outside, or walk and let my mind wander, or lie down and allow myself to exercise my imagination (possibly in the form of an actual dream while napping). Being quiet doesn't come naturally to me, so it really is a challenge. But I think it's worth it. After all, multi-tasking is okay in its place, but life really deserves our complete attention once in a while.

I hope you...have bad karma?

I have what is, by Washington standards, a VERY easy commute. 10 minutes in light traffic to drop off my daughter, then 5 minutes in even lighter traffic from there to work. So I know I have no right to complain...but even so, this morning I waited through a couple cycles of a light while watching a woman in another car engage in a series of not-quite-dangerous-but-definitely-annoying driving maneuvers. First she blocked the traffic going in the other direction as she tried to swing into her lane from the gas station. She forgot to inch forward when possible, since she was reading the paper. When the light changed, she took up two lanes--as it turned out, because she wanted to get to the right and turn, but no one could have known that since she didn't use her blinker. ARGH! Gee whiz, I thought to myself as she drove off, I hope you...

What? Get a ticket? Nothing she did was illegal or really dangerous. Get in a fender bender? Even in my worst moods, I wouldn't wish that on someone. Do I hope that she has a crummy day, or that she's kept waiting behind some other car on her travels to wherever she's headed?

It's an interesting thing, the human need for revenge--however small we'd like that revenge to be. I suppose it's natural to wish that the person who cut in line at Starbucks later burns their tongue on their coffee, but it's surely not the high road we ought to be taking. And I know that on the days when I'm able to stop myself and turn my wish for minor revenge into a wish for better driving, or a wish for serenity for the impatient line-cutter, I feel as though I'm engaging in the world more in the way I'd like to.

On the other hand, having secret little wishes that we don't act on isn't the worst thing in the world. As a child, my mother (a psychologist) helped me identify aggression toward a friend by imagining that her beautiful blond hair turned green. I didn't DO anything to make it green, and of course it stayed blond, but being aware of the emotion and using my imagination to address it helped me to move on.

Like many things in life, my guess is the answer is about balance. Go ahead and notice when you're annoyed, and when you harbor a secret wish for minor, traffic-ticket-level revenge. Allow yourself just a moment to access that side of yourself, and to acknowledge that you're human, and humans like things to be fair, and you feel that something wasn't (which is often what's behind our minor revenge fantasies, I think: a wish for justice). But then take a deep breath, and remember that part of being human is growth. And see if you can let go of the traffic-ticket fantasy and replace it with a hope for better driving on everyone's part.

Anyway, that's what I'll be doing on my very low-key commute to work tomorrow. Will it work? I'll keep you posted.

Hand Over Your Papers

I was so proud to serve in DC this week, as the DC City Council brought forward a bill that essentially condemns Arizona's new immigration law--by forbidding the DC police chief to share immigration information with federal officials and asking DC to divest of all business with Arizona. All 13 members of the Council co-sponsored the bill, as they talked about human rights, racial profiling, and the need to take a strong stand. Yes!

It does have me thinking, though, about the ways in which our country feels divided these days. I don't know if it's really more than usual, or if the media's just covering the divide more. But when we have states divesting from business with other states, when we have some jurisdictions legalizing same-sex marriage while others actively prohibit it...it poses, for me, interesting questions about what unites us. The whole concept of a country made up of individual jurisdictions, with some laws universal and others local, is a slightly crazy one. How do we find the thread that defines us as a country, when we seem to be retreating into our little red/blue territories?

I don't have the answer, although my guess is it has something to do with talking to each other more. And perhaps there's a need for people to find the ethical underpinnings that bind us together, even when they lead us in different directions. I'm curious if others think that the country is unusually divided these days, or if it feels as though this is how it's always been. And is that division just part of democracy, messy and volatile and exciting...or is it a rift we need to heal?