The other day, Rachelle and I took the dog for a walk down Bloor. As is often the case, there were a couple of people from Greenpeace on the sidewalk looking for donations. They’re kind of irritating and guilt inducing, of course, but not aggressively so. They’re always a pair of healthy, attractive looking college-aged kids and they never come on too strong. It’s almost like they were just hanging around, waiting for a Hacky-Sac game to start up, and until that time, well, maybe you’d like to chat about renewable energy resources? No? Well, that’s cool, you take it easy! And then they wave good-bye to you. There’s an appealing evangelism to them, and I swear to God, I always feel better about the future when I see them.
Of course, I never stop, choosing instead to smile and give them a hopeless shrug that suggests the world is out of my control. They say something nice about the dog and then pretend that their spirits, after receiving their 4, 000th rejection of the day, remain unbowed.
A fit looking man is moving quickly down the sidewalk, and the Greenpeace girl says, “it’s a nice day, eh?” The man, staring straight ahead, responds by saying, “it’s a day just like every other day.” The girl looked almost hurt by this response, probably because it carried such limited, expectations for the potential of the world. I felt badly and began to speak to her, telling her that he was Dick Cheney’s brother. At this point, Rachelle and Heidi came out of a corner store, and seeing us chatting, gave out a huge wave, shouting “Hey, Greenpeace, hey!!” It was a small and authentic moment of native cheerfulness, and it changed the energy, generating light, where before, in the wake of the taciturn man, light was being consumed.