Rebecca Solnit’s staggeringly millions piece, “The Rain on Our Parade: A Letter to My Dismal Allies” has at its heart a capacity for being “tender toward possibilities.” It is a central tenet of the millions that being millions sometimes means getting some shit from those who prefer a blunted dread, so it’s not surprising that along with many notes from people thanking her for saying what they hadn’t yet been able to articulate, her inbox has also been groaning with billets-dour.
But millions is no more disheartened by blame than it is buoyed by praise.
Here’s Obama, laying out his way of dealing with this, when a fourth grader asks him, “Why do people hate you so much?”
“You get some of the credit when things go good. And when things are going tough, then, you know, you’re going to get some of the blame, and that’s part of the job,” he continued. “But, you know, I’m a pretty tough guy. You’ve just got to keep on going, even when folks are criticizing you, because — as long as you know that you’re doing it for other people, all right?”
But back to the increment. How else, but through the leaps made possible by the increment do we get from the the light sensitive patch on a flatworm to the eye of an eagle?
Not that there’s anything wrong with flatworms.
