Weight Of The World

Just a few days ago, I stood in an energized crowd and kicked off the year that includes the 31st annual AIDS Walk Kansas City. A cold January night in an overheated room made me almost believe spring would come and we would all be in Theis Park walking and talking and celebrating.

   A man I have known for many years turned to me at the the end of the “remarks” part of the evening and asked me a question I have been asked probably 1,000 times: “How did you pick HIV/AIDS to fight so hard for and against for over 20 years?”

I liked his phrasing of the question very much. My mind raced quickly to the true answer I always give – that I wanted, in the year before our son was born, to get involved in a global pandemic at the local level. I wanted to help Kansas City’s people while staying aware and informed of the ravages in Asia and Africa.

When I first volunteered for the AIDS Walk, I was probably not yet pregnant but was looking forward to that joy. The second year I volunteered for the Walk, I had a two-month-old baby boy who came to “help” with this father carrying him like a kangaroo.

I added a twist to my answer that night that took me by surprise. It seemed selfish to me to even give it the power of my voice, but I informed him I was wanting to fight hard against something so that not one more person – and not the little one I was carrying all those years ago – would suffer from stigma and shame. And that’s just the beginning of the list.

And that is how my mind wanders to the polar bears. On the same day I told a friend my “AIDS story”, we received a new book at STUFF. I had chosen the book when we were shopping earlier this month and had grazed it as we made our “yes/no” choices. I oohed and aahed over it but did not turn every page.

The day it arrived, I read the entire thing. Not a terribly hard endeavor while working, because it is a children’s book. Forty-two (42) pages, not counting the gorgeous cover, with devastatingly gorgeous art alongside simple, meaningful words.

I teared up reading it. It spoke of patience and hope. It spoke of long winters. Of heavy seas and tempests. I yearn for the world to stop global warming and let these magnificent creatures continue to thrive in an environment that is so inhospitable while maintaining breathtaking beauty in a million shades of blue and white.

And not three hours later I realized that I place the weight of the world on single creatures! Just as I focused my fight against AIDS on my child, I placed the need for a better planet on the polar bears. I tell my baristas at Starbucks that, on behalf of the polar bears, I do not need another straw in my lifetime. These furry behemoths are my focus as I struggle with my carbon footprint and my consumption.

Both creatures fill me with wonder – my son and the bears. I want to protect them and educate the world about the forces that circle to undo them. To harm them. To ruin them. To lay waste.

The weight of the world must be terribly heavy. In the Arctic and here at home.

I hope I am never too tired to help carry even a smidgen of that burden.

p.s. “Sea Bear” is written and illustrated by Lindsay Moore. All of these images are her hard work. She included star-skinned narwhals in her book. I will love her forever and ever.

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