There was an unforgettable moment in Nova Scotia. Simone and I had been traveling for days, evading fog. Thanks to road signage, we knew we were still in the province; on land, on a paved road; land of my fore-mothers (and -fathers; today's family doesn't talk much about the men, except for eye rolls).
But Simone and I rarely saw stuff. Grey puffs. A building. More grey puffs. Driving cautiously.
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This though WAS a cherished clear day. Clear as wisdom. Clear as patience. Clear as love. Clear as hatred discarded by the side of the road; biodegradable hatred; hatred recycling into love of some kind, maybe nuclear fission!
We parked our rental car in a field beside plenty of others boasting local plates. Everyone stared at a chimney at the edge of a cliff. Whatever factory had driven the local economy was gone. Its brick chimney was stark and straight as an exclamation point.
And here came the swifts, doing a pirouette, a ballet, something no human dance company at these numbers could ever attempt!!!
The swifts bed down for the night: Truly amazing ~ once in a lifetime (unless you lived nearby).
Those chimney swifts returning home for the evening?
My point > those are your #GivingTuesday subject lines.
And I'm collecting email subject lines DAY BEFORE and DAY OF.
Down the road some researcher (not me) might (should?) look at comparative results. In my future classes, for sure, though: students WILL analyze the language you used in 2021.
About those students? I'm not trying to train people who agree with me. I'm trying to train careerists whose job is to raise money for an amazing mission ... and to do that with confidence, pride, without regret, without distraction. Today's politics, for instance, are a distraction; as they probably were when Stonehenge seemed like the best idea on earth.
Let's start by admiring chimney swifts on a clear day in Nova Scotia.