Letters from the Republic

I donated blood this morning.

This was not unusual for me; I have donated upwards of thirty times before in multiple countries. I normally would not even mention it, blood donation being something I regard as the responsibility of those who are able and thus not quite worthy of recognition. I tend not to offer kudos for properly disposing of one’s waste either.

Today was different. Kyiv was hit with a large attack last night, and smoke hung in otherwise clear air on what would have been a beautiful start to the day. The military hospital was closed when I arrived, as admissions of any sort are barred during air raid warnings; though the bombardments are rarely during the day in Kyiv, they certainly started early yesterday – my evening out was cut short by a massive blast signalling the beginning of the attack.

I was eventually escorted by an attending soldier to the donation clinic, passing through the hospital’s quadrangle filled with chestnut trees – the emblem of Kyiv. The sun shone brightly and birds sang; as usual, there are no jets overhead to drown them out. In a darkened wing, my health questionnaire was completed with the assistance of a young soldier, Andriy, who is learning English after being inspired by the music of David Bowie and Queen. Andriy is the spitting image of a young Nathan Fillion, and he proudly showed off his pendant with Bowie’s image embedded in a star shape.

The operation was conducted with usual efficiency and standards, but above average care. As I rose to leave, Andriy delivered the message from watching staff: on this day of all days it meant everything to Ukrainians to have an American in the clinic as the nation fights for the ideals founded in our Revolution.

Andriy’s linguistic labors paid off. Never one to accept a compliment gracefully, all I could do was nod dumbly as the room looked on. I exchanged handshakes with everyone, followed my escort off premises, and walked out into the fresh air – the smoke having dissipated. In all the brutality, sadness, and despair of these days there is simply no matching the quality of people and interactions that are to be met on a regular basis in Ukraine – such is the freedom of emotion and care. I am convinced that there is no more beauty in this world to be experienced beyond what is to be found in this time.

Through a deficit of bravery and the supremacy of self-interest, the home I love dearly imperils its own wellbeing and that of the Earth’s as indolence and cruelty join hands to march us into the morass. On a day commemorating the bravery of those who put their lives at stake to form a state to match their greatest ideals of pluralism, tolerance, compassion, self-determination, and dignity, I consider how few now open their eyes to the sufferings of their neighbors – let alone those of their countrymen and fellow human beings.

My contributions to this cause remain minuscule. What are you doing?