The Joy of Benevolent Innocence

Every morning I stumble to the coffee maker, greet Mia with some scritches and a cookie (after all, I am her emotional support human) and then begin each day buried in news from The Guardian, Pro Publica, and Heather Cox Richardson’s “Letters from an American” before outlining a new article of my own, researching news segments for my regular contributions on Hudson River Radio’s “The Many Shades of Green”, and working to acquire the resources and talent vital to replacing platforms like Facebook and X with civ.works.

Readers familiar with my typical writing, rants, and snark attacks know the core of my work is defined in the mantra “Any meaningful democracy requires an educated, informed, and engaged society”.

In my personal life, I’ve tried to convey the importance of balancing body, mind, and spirit. If you asked my children (now all well into adulthood where I may someday join them), about important messages I’ve attempted to convey they would likely respond with “He always lectures on finding balance and using the precious gift of time well” (“Money comes and goes, but time just goes”).

While, before a stroke almost seven years ago (the universe tapping me on the shoulder reminding me to heed my own words about too much work and zero balance), I loved to go out on long-distance runs while listening to an eclectic collection of stirring music.

Now I settle for a brisk 5-mile walk through the charming town of Tavira in the Southeast part of Portugal, an easy mostly flat hike I’ve termed “The Official Loop”.

While “on the loop” I let my mind roam free (some might argue it is still out there, somewhere) while greeting people with a “bom dia”, “boa tarde”, or “boa noite” depending on the time of day. Most are delighted to hear a poorly spoken attempt at Portuguese from an American barbarian in some form of obvious physical distress.

There is also a little tourist train that winds its way through town, also on some sort of loop, although not my “Official Loop”. Nevertheless, at a few different points around town, we intersect on our disparate journeys. As I have become a mostly regular fixture on the route of the little train, the engineer responsible for safely navigating the passengers through town now rings the train bell twice and waves when we encounter one another.

On one such occasion, a small child also started to wave and was so filled with delight when I gave a friendly wave in response. The innocent joy of a child being acknowledged as the train passed by filled me with thoughts of the goodness that still occasionally shines through despite the darkness of our present times.

In a simple and innocent act, it represents a prayer to the universe that hope and love will triumph in our generational struggle to bend the “moral arc” back toward justice.