What's As Contagious As Fear

On a quiet spring morning, the man in well-worn flannel eases himself down to sit on his front stoop. At his feet, there is a large cat.

The news today is all tectonic plates shifting, shattering. But here is this gentle pair in a shaft of April light.

The man once told me he isn't a cat guy. But he is long-since retired and - like the cat - has time. And while the man is a true New Englander who keeps his feelings under his flannel, thank you very much, he is a little charmed that the cat has chosen him.

You see, the cat lives in a house up the street. But most mornings, she leaves her actual house and ambles over to her chosen home on the man's front stoop. When the street lights go on, the cat leaves her home to go back to her house.

This morning, the man takes an old brush from his dustpan, nothing fancy, and gently strokes the cat with it. And the large cat purrs and struts and basks with a delight so deep and wide, it's too much to contain and spills out of her into this world so in need of delight.

And this little intimacy on a cold spring morning makes me believe in humanity all over again.

We can talk about the best way to make our voice heard with our Members of Congress. How we can strengthen democracy right now, going on offense when the powerful want us on defense, the importance of thanking good politicians. And those are all essential tools in our democracy building toolbox. Perhaps make a few as regular as flossing or taking out the trash.

But democracy isn't just a form of government. It is a way of being with each other. In its finest form, that looks like sharing our surplus, instead of hoarding it. Looking out and standing up for the most vulnerable among us. Making it easiest for those who have it hardest. Helping to carry each other's loads. Doing that which draws us more closely together, instead of pushes us further apart.

I love how the poet June Jordan put it: "Maybe the purpose of being here, wherever we are, is to increase the durability and the occasions of love among and between peoples."

Which is all a way of saying democracy, at its best, is caring for each other. And few things activate that care like bearing witness to others putting their hearts out into a cold spring morning. Get caught caring, as they say.

When we feel immobilized by fear, despair, why-bother-it's-all-going-to-hell-anyway-ness, remember that we can always, at any part of our day, from any part of the world, strengthen the culture of democracy.

And right now, that's an act of defiance. The powerful want us to dislike, distrust, even despise each other. Care flouts that. They want us to think it's zero sum, more for you means less for me, it's a dog-eat-dog world. Care thaws that by creating little surpluses of kindness.

I walked home from seeing the man in well-worn flannel and the cat who chose him, and I sent a few love texts to a few friends. I wrote and mailed a few long overdue thank you notes. I was more gracious than I'd usually be when someone cancelled at the last minute. In short, I was kinder for having borne witness to kindness.

Fear, we know, is contagious. So, too, is care.