Sometimes it is easy to get caught up in the day to day frustrations of life, and a challenge to maintain perspective. When that happens, I like to come to look at this memorial. Yesterday I found myself here after a dinner incident changed my plans and thus my route home. Maybe the universe is trying to remind me to keep it simple, maybe it was just the most direct route home. Doc was an amazing activist, always standing up for others, and always helping folks to see the big picture of intersecting oppressions. He wasn’t one to take injustice lying down, nor was he one to walk away from an intellectual debate. He was at every protest, picket, and demonstration. But like so many who give of themselves, he let his own life collapse around him until his physical and emotional pain was too much to bear. I ache inside when I think of him making the decision to leap to his death, from the mall no less. But I also hope it would mean something to know that this picture of him, this challenge to live, and this warm and infectious smile live on. His work to build a more just society lives on, though Doc no longer does.
Today the annual compost delivery is coming to my community garden. I will be thinking of Doc, of change, and of inspiration and new life as I enrich Number 19’s soil and bury seeds within her. Our nighttime temperatures have been unseasonably cold, so my peas are going in a few weeks later than normal. I’ll be planting carrots and beets today too. In the backyard I’ve got nice looking baby spinach in my cold frame, and the garlic experiment is going strong. And this week my crocuses finally bloomed. It’s been a long cold winter but spring is surely here.