The Human Race

If you think I have been uncharacteristically quiet lately, you would be right. I can easily blame it on the many distractions of a glorious Maine summer; one I spent working on improving my golf game (mostly successful), biking, trying to prove I can still play tennis (the verdict is still out) and enjoying never to be forgotten moments with family and friends.

But the truth is that the biggest reason for my silence is that I am simply numb. Numb over the continuous assaults on our democratic institutions, the dumbing down of our country through attacks on our greatest universities and scientific research (thus ceding the future to the Chinese), doubting accepted medical evidence and promoting junk science that preys upon the susceptible, the corruption and greed of our president, the concerted effort to destroy our planet by denying the reality of climate change, the perversion of our justice system to reward criminals and persecute the president’s political enemies, the cruelty of mass deportations, and on and on and on.

At a time when recent polls show that Americans regard partisan divide as second only to the economy as the country’s biggest problem, it is difficult to find anything positive to talk about. But just when it seems that all is lost, something happens that reinforces the quaint notion that we are all a single species whose commonality is far greater than our differences. Yesterday New York City experienced the annual spectacle of a mass of humanity larger than most American cities touring the five boroughs in order to say that they “ran New York,” covering the 26.2 miles of the New York City Marathon from the barely two hours of the indefatigable Kenyans to the eight hours plus of the last of the stragglers.

From our perch along First Avenue in the Eighties, and later near the finish in Central Park, as we anxiously followed our son’s second foray in the event, we witnessed one of the greatest democratic participatory events in the world: 65,000+ participants representing nearly 150 nations. Young and old, men and women, fast and slow, Black and white, brown and yellow. I purposely did not say “runners,” since it included numerous wheelchair racers demonstrating more courage than you or I can imagine by proving that physical limitations cannot impede immeasurable mental determination. My wife followed a sight-impaired friend who finished the course aided by a dedicated support group. Try telling her that she can’t do anything she chooses to pursue or that she should not be included.

When I tell people in Maine that I spend a good deal of the winter in New York City, they often look at me with pity, assuming I face a constant barrage of crime and garbage, having bought into the image of cities as “hellholes,” a notion sold by a native New Yorker and his mouthpieces on Fox News to further denigrate his opponents.

Well, the streets could be cleaner and there really are more rats than you can count. But let them come here on Marathon Day when millions line the streets to cheer on their loved ones, holding homemade signs and ringing cowbells, and then tell me this isn’t the most vibrant and exciting place in the world. And we will gladly accept the estimated $1 billion the event brings to the city’s economy. That’s in real money, by the way, not $Trumps.