Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Today at work my boss paged me because he was helping an old lady find some books, and she also wanted a recommendation on becoming vegetarian. When I came to help her I discovered she was buying Fastfood Nation (which I haven't read) and the two Michael Pollans I've read (and as you must know by now, LOVED.)

We started talking about The Omnivore's Dilemma, and she was telling me, with tears in her eyes, how she was having trouble reading the book because it was upsetting her so much. (She had it from the library and wanted to buy a copy.) At one point he describes the life of cattle in feedlots, and she said she just bawling as she read it. And understand, Pollan isn't a shock-jock-animal-rights writer--his description is thoughtful, but not strident.

She didn't want to eat meat anymore, and she was so distraught by the state of the world in general. She wrote a letter to Michael Pollan, telling him she's only one person and she knows she can't make a difference, but she still has to do what she believes is right. She tried to order all these books online but something wasn't working, so she drove into town for the first time in 2 years, because she had to have these books. (I helped her place an online order too, since our 1-800 number had failed her.)

She was just the kindest lady I've met in awhile. We spent about half an hour together, lamenting the state of the world, talking about vegetarianism. By the end I gave her my card and told her to call me if she has ordering trouble in future; and I told her that what gives me optimism in this crappy world is meeting people like her. And having the chat seemed to cheer her up, and she gave me a hug. (Luckily the rest of the book has some nicer stories, like the description of how well animals are treated on Polyface Farms.)

Honestly, it's because of encounters like this that I can't be a cynic. Whatever is happening on this planet, whatever continues to happen, there are still people with hearts. Like this old, widowed lady with horrible back pain, who's been recycling for years, and who was moved to tears by the description of a calf being taken from its mother, who despite the internets thwarting her took the long drive into town to an area she doesn't know well, and who wants to make a change to her life even though she thinks it won't make a difference, just because it's what she believes is right. That's the reason I make these changes too--for my own personal integrity.

So in honor of my lovely customer...

Here is one of the most depressing songs/poems I know of, that so well describes our world at its worst: "Slouching Towards Bethlehem" by Joni Mitchell. I love the line: "The best lack conviction, given time to think / And the worst are full of passion without mercy." Especially the latter line, since those are the people who make my monkey the craziest. But Joni and Yeats missed out on the category for old ladies filled with passion and compassion.



And then, since I've been listening to lots of Cohen--one of Cohen's most beautiful, healing songs: "The Sisters of Mercy." Oh the sisters of mercy, they are not departed or gone. They were waiting for me when I thought that I just can't go on.

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