I've already gushed about
Buckminster Fuller, but I've got him on the brain lately. His exuberant belief in the ability of humanity to do good is something I (want to) share. Which is probably why I dislike people so much, because they always seem to prove me wrong.
We drove by a blind person walking down the street once and I got to thinking. Eventually (and, for Andrew, out of the blue) I said, "Andrew, they really should build a city for the blind where blind people wouldn't have to worry about getting run over by cars, and everything would be designed for them." I went on and on about all the great things we could do for blind people. He listened quietly ... and then I asked him what he thought. After laughing (because, where the hell did that come from?) Andrew remarked that it would just be a place to take advantage of blind people. And he's right. So now, when I have one of my (occasional) world-hugging moments, those moments when I think that we can all do good and live together peacefully, all Andrew has to do to snap me back into reality is sigh, roll his eyes, and say, "City for the Blind."
But I digress ...
I *love* that Buckminster made up words. I *love* that he had ideas that he believed in and he pursued them even in the face of professional skepticism. I *love* that he trusted himself and valued himself as much as he trusted and valued everyone else on Earth. Buckminster Fuller is a warm spot in this yuck-tastic world. He's the embodiment of my hope for myself that I can do something, anything, to make the world a better place.
I'm not in a position to build a City for the Blind (and to protect it's inhabitants), but I can do small things. I hold the elevator when I see people walking into my apartment building. I let people merge in traffic. I pick up things that I see people drop and give them back to them.
This heat must have melted my brain, because my warm-hearted-ness is usually reserved for just a few people that I feel actually deserve it.
[photo taken 6/16/2007 in Philadelphia]