This girl dreams of being a naturalist when she grows up. Note the turtle. |
Sometimes nice people do nice things and something
wonderful happens.
Yesterday a very nice person did a very nice thing and I
had a great day.
The Obamacare fiasco dominates my days and reduces them
to a cold, gray drizzle. I've been fighting since November to regain access to
health care lost when Obamacare came in. I've been reassured by my state
senator, congressman, and hospital personnel that it's a mere bureaucratic blip
and it will all be ironed out with the next submission of the next form.
Not so.
I was allowed to forget all about that yesterday and have
a great time with great people and I am very grateful.
I think Jesus was right. Love really is a transformative
force that changes all.
***
Back on Saturday, June 7 I received an email from Diane
C. Louie, someone I have never met. The email suggested that I attend a formal
dinner to honor Pete
Dunne, a legendary New Jersey birder and conservationist. Of course I'd
want to attend such an event; I was born in New Jersey and I've been an avid
birdwatcher for forty years.
Small catch – a ticket would cost two weeks' salary.
I have made it a point to donate to the Audubon Society, the
Sierra Club, the World Wildlife Fund, National Wildlife, the Humane Society,
and the ASPCA, even as a low income adjunct professor. Giving is a platform of
my Christian faith (Luke
21:1-4). Giving enhances the giver as much as any receiver. But my
donations fall in the twenty-dollar range. No way I could afford this dinner.
I responded to Diane's email. I'd love to attend, I said,
and participate in honoring Pete Dunne, but it's out of my league.
Diane wrote back. "You misunderstood. You and your
companion would be my guest."
Diane explained that she had read something I had written
about birdwatching; it might have been this
blog post about Garret Mountain. Though Diane had never met me, she offered
me this chance to attend the Audubon Society dinner for Pete Dunne.
Well, you could have knocked me over with … a feather.
One of the yellow-shafted flicker feathers I have in the
collection of feathers sitting atop my refrigerator. Or the turkey, owl, or
wood duck feathers … the blue jay or crow feathers … did I mention that I love
birds?
I wanted to cry. All right, I cried.
It's been so long since I had a reason to get dressed up.
And I tend to birdwatch in a catch-as-catch-can basis, and I've lived a long
time without a car and so trips to birding hotspots have been out of the
question, so that means I birdwatch alone. I'd be in a room full of
birdwatchers, including the biggest name birdwatchers in the state – the rock
stars of birding.
All right, I'm crying right now.
Do nice things, people. You can really brighten someone's
day.
***
When I was a teenager, I wanted to be an ornithologist
when I grew up.
High school chemistry class was my Waterloo.
I was okay the first couple of months. I wasn't
comfortable doing the work, but I could do it.
After that, it was as if my mind could not travel any
further on the same route. I could follow the initial steps of a chemical
reaction, but after, say, the third step, it's as if someone erased the white
board inside my brain.
My teacher was a nice guy. He witnessed this and tried to
help. I remember him stopping class one day, looking at me, and saying with
genuine kindness, "Do you follow? If not, I can go over it all
again."
I realized even then that he could go over it a hundred
times and I'd reach that same point where I would just lose the thread, and
everything in my head would disappear. I did fail chemistry class. First time I
failed a class, ever. Last time, too.
I realized: I'm never going to be the naturalist I want
to be.
It was maddening to me that I was so damn good at
English. I never did English homework. I never studied for an English test. I
could write whatever I was told to write, quickly and effortlessly, and I took
the A for granted.
Given that I was so good at English, I could see right
through it. I was scandalized by how novelists and poets manipulated their
readers and used art to tinker with politics. Hemingway and Shakespeare could
lie about women and readers fell for it. Writers were such egotists, and the
stuff they made us read in school was never about people like us – working class
and ethnic.
I didn't want to be inside reading. I wanted to be
outside hiking.
I went to Poland. I fell in love with the country. I
decided I had to write something about Poland. I went to grad school and did
not study birds, as I had wanted to when I was a teenager. I studied stories,
and how crafty storytellers use stories to manipulate audiences. I wrote my
dissertation about stories people tell about Poland, not about birds.
I'm a writer and I'm a birdwatcher and I never really
wrote much about birds. Nature, to me, is where I lose myself, where I let go
of the world's cares, where I forget my vocabulary. Since I regard my writing
as work, the last thing I wanted to do is combine nature and writing. That's
changing.
My blog
post about the snowy owl irruption of 2013-2014 was the first
multi-paragraph writing about birds I'd ever done. I followed up with a blog
post about why
I started birdwatching, why I stopped birdwatching, and why I started
birdwatching again.
***
Anna Martinez accompanied me to last night's Pete Dunne
commemorative dinner. When I picked her up after work, she was wearing a
t-shirt. I wanted to scream. "Didn't I tell you we'd be in a room full of
rich people and we have to do this right or they'll peg us as lowlifes from
Paterson!"
Anna reassured me. "I have a nice shirt on
underneath."
Omigod.
She slipped out of her t-shirt. Oh, okay. That IS a nice
shirt! Anna cleaned up well.
I wore a blue pastel floral print puffy sleeved blouse
that my sister Antoinette sewed decades ago. I have so few opportunities to
dress up it's in mint condition.
Anna and I entered a stately room with chandeliers and
paneling. Courteous and spiffily attired staff proffered crab cakes, stuffed
mushrooms, plump shrimp, lobster puffs, and filo pastries. Anna revealed her
level of alcoholic sophistication by ordering "Something sweet." The
bartender mixed a cocktail with a nautical name – was it breezy coast or sandy
beach or The Hamptons? – it tasted like pineapple. I had seltzer.
Dinner was genuinely delicious. Baby greens with bacon,
feta, and cranberries. Roast beef and a delicious fish that was paper white,
mild, boneless, and tender. I wish I knew what it was because I'd love to have
it again. Lemon cake with coconut and mango accents for dessert. The
centerpiece was candles with little bird's nests, complete with tiny eggs.
Paul Winter
performed twice. His second piece was inspired by wolf song, and he invited us
to howl in salute to Pete Dunne. We did.
The dinnertime speeches, all salutes to Pete Dunne, to
birdwatching, to conservation, to man's love for and need of the wild world,
even in New Jersey, brought tears. Ted Floyd, editor of Birding magazine, Kenn
Kaufman, who, as a teenager, hitchhiked all over North America to see birds,
and David Sibley, perhaps the single most famous bird author in the world,
offered reminiscences of Pete as a personal friend and as a visionary, mentor
and activist of historical importance. NJ Audubon president Eric Stiles was the
master of ceremonies.
***
As I circulated throughout the room, I studied nametags.
I wanted to see a Polish surname. Anna said something similar; she saw only one
Hispanic name. I tend to think of New Jersey as a highly diverse state. I
encounter few WASPs in my day to day Paterson life.
There were many in this room.
One could conclude many things about that – one conclusion
is that birdwatching will benefit from attracting more black and Hispanic urban
youth.
But here's another thing to think about.
Kate Deens took the stage to encourage guests to donate
money for NJ Audubon programs that benefit urban youth. There was a
computer-driven illustration of a heart behind Kate as she spoke. Kate
encouraged dinner attendees to use their cell phones to donate money. Kate
listed the programs – through this program we will get kids to an overnight
camp – through this program we will get binoculars for kids so they can better
observe their natural world – through this program we will get kids into
workshops…
Even as Kate spoke, the illustration of a heart behind
Kate began to fill up. The well off and mostly WASP guests at that dinner
donated immediately, and generously, and they kept donating, till that heart
was filled up almost twice over.
I was incredibly moved by this.
I live in Paterson. I see the disconnect between
Paterson's residents and the natural world. The other day I was walking across
the Broadway Bridge. An old man was walking with a young boy by his side. The
boy threw garbage into the Passaic River beneath them. Rather than chastising
the boy, the old man actually took more garbage out of his pockets, handed it
to the boy, and instructed the boy to throw that into the river, too. The boy
did so.
I see, daily, wildlife in this heavily polluted river:
catfish, turtles, snakes, great blue herons, great egrets, black crowned night
herons, Canada geese, mallards, wood duck, ring-necked ducks, bufflehead,
mergansers, cormorants. All these animals have to live with Paterson residents'
garbage. In this river there are shopping carts, tires, and computers. People
dump them. They are that disconnected from the natural world that surrounds
them.
Last night I sat in a room full of economically well off people,
many of them WASPs, who unhesitatingly and generously donated large sums of
money to connect urban youth to the natural world from which they are so
alienated.
And yes I did cry. Again!
Anna and me |
Bird's nest centerpiece. Photo by Anna Martinez |
Paul Winter performing. Photo by Anna Martinez |
Pete Dunne speaking. Photo by Anna Martinez. |
The heart indicating the splendid generosity of those present. I was so moved I cried. |
Anna got everyone to sign her program! |