So today, I took part in the AIDS Walk New York, 2014.
I’m pretty tired. Normally, six miles wouldn’t wear me out this much, but there was a lot of standing around ahead of time while we listened to a seemingly endless list of speakers. Some of them had powerful and moving things to say, of course, but most just seemed to want to pat us, and themselves, on the back. Standing always tires my legs more than walking. Also, Red Molly and I did a lot of walking yesterday (as in ten miles, give or take), which probably wasn’t wise. And of course, six miles is just the course itself, not…anyway!
It was a perfect day for a walk. Bright and sunny, seventy degrees. So much better than the misery of pouring rain that we had to slog through last year.
I was glad to do a little good. It was easy enough to do.
(And so can you! Just click on the banner and follow the link. It’s not too late.)
But…I don’t feel proud. All the cheering and whooping and back-patting from the stage felt wrong.
I wasn’t there when this march was something that took courage. I’m not one of the people who has dedicated myself to a cause, or good works. There are people who do that, who deserve the cheers. I’m not one of them. For me, it was just a pleasant walk in the sunshine.
I am an unworthy servant. All I have done is my duty.
Not even, really.
It was just a little bit of good that was easy to do. Sometimes I wish they’d just cool it with the shouting and the cheerleaders and the bands and the DJ’s and leave it at that.
Know what? I’m going to tell myself that all that stuff was there for the guy who did the walk in a wheelchair. That’s what I’m going to do. He deserves it.