Today I drove a baby bathtub to The Parenting Place. The Parenting Place is a very good place indeed. Becoming a mom is not always the easiest transition. And this little house-like building right in the middle of town offers basically free (by donation — and I’m embarrassed to admit that I’ve been there a bunch of times and have never donated) services to Boulder parents and kids: classes, groups, information, support. It serves a really diverse community, for Boulder anyway, and it just feels good being there.

It’s one of those places whose sole purpose is to help, and it feels homey just to enter their doors. When you’re there, you belong there. You — you’re okay. Which is a really important thing to feel for a new mom. I remember the first time I went to the new moms group, it was clear to me that a good portion of the room consisted of women on the brink of losing their minds. And this comforted me because I was one of them. So they give a lot. I am glad to give back at least a little bit in return.

I had to run in and run out — no time to chat. I left the car running, because sometimes when it’s really cold my car doesn’t start. But I drove over to Rebecca’s afterwards (I think that place is made of magic) to get some things and decided to take the risk and turn my car off. I brought Zoe in and we looked around and bought a couple of things.

And then. Dun dun dun. My car didn’t start. I called my brother and, true to form, he was there quickly and jumped me. All better. No problem.

But this, as well as Jill’s accident yesterday, got me thinking. I guess the simplest way to put it is this: when the shit hits the fan, people’s hearts open right up. Suddenly people want nothing more than to give to each other and to help anyone they can help.

Take September 11th. (And forget the politics, if you can). I was in NY when it happened, and what I remember more than anything else is the immense love and generosity that people showed to each other.

One of the most moving moments of my life was being part of the multitude of people gathered on the West Side Highway, cheering on the trucks who passed by hauling debris from the towers. We had to give in some way. We just had to. It meant everything. And if that was all we could do, that was good enough.