I cannot, will not save the elephants. It’s not that I don’t care about them, or the fact that, as one e-mail sent to me this morning implored, they may go instinct within 15 years. I care. I really do. But some days –okay, most days– I can barely manage my own wheelhouse let alone take on the fate of wild animals half a world away.
When you e-mailed me to ask me to save the elephants today, bear in mind that I was reading it in my car, at a stop light, where I occasionally looked up to see if the light had turned green. Only, I can’t see out my windshield very well when the sun is beating on it, because no matter which child promises to wash my car, he always leaves giant streaks on my windshield. And they are hard to see through today. Too bad you didn’t pick a cloudy day.
Your e-mail is also one of many I received today, probably because I am a blogger and am, therefore, on everybody’s list. There’s one about a Halloween safety survey and another about a new song from Eminem, which is so far off target, I can’t imagine how you got my e-mail address.
There’s an e-mail about half-price Halloween costumes (too late) and one about International Pickle Day (really?). Then there’s the guy on Twitter who’s trying to get me to click on a link by asking me if I’m in the video (c’mon, pal) and the hacker pretending to be Bank of America. (Maybe they’re the same person?)
Meanwhile, I’m fielding phone calls from my publicist while I’m in the supermarket, and trying to keep my soup from spilling all over my coupons. I’m trying to figure out who’s got the soccer carpool this afternoon, and I’m writing this blog in my head at stop lights, because I’ve since given up on reading my e-mail.
Besides, I’m too busy e-mailing folks about my Kiss Cancer Goodbye fundraiser for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society to take on another another cause, another event, another half-off sale. Another elephant. And we all have our elephants…or our whales. When my son was in kindergarten, he went through a killer whale phase. He drew them, he read books about them and he loved them so, we took him to Sea World to see them.
When his buddy made a donation to Save the Whales on his behalf for his birthday, I put the sticker on the back window of my mini-van. But the whole thing overwhelmed my six-year-old. He asked, “How am I gonna save the whales?” As though the fate of the whales rested on the shoulders of one kindergartener. I know the feeling.
Considering I can barely see that sticker through my back window when the sun shines, I’m certain not the person to ask. And I’m not the person to save the elephants. Not today, anyhow.