unity around common good offers hope for future

By Greg Cusack

from  http://www.shanghaidaily.com/opinion/foreign-perspectives/Unity-around-common-good-offers-hope-for-future/shdaily.shtml

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DEAR Editor,

Aspects of these times almost seem surreal: one the one hand there is great beauty here in the Northwest, and much good is being done by many in efforts to protect and restore the environment.

However, on the other hand, many seem blind to the omnipresent signs of the harsher side of reality: homeless people camping along walking trails, the large number of children in our schools who depend upon their school-time meals for important nourishment, the large number of people begging for money who cluster around every major freeway interchange, and the weary, worn faces of so many people who work two or more jobs in order to survive.

But so many do not see them; I have concluded that this is a learned response. But all is not darkness, either. I delight in my twice weekly forays into our nearby employee-owned grocery store that attracts an incredible variety of people: Chinese, Vietnamese, Sudanese, Ukrainians, Russians, Mexicans, often speaking their own sparkling languages and even many in wondrously colorful native clothes. It is a definite comfort to be among this swirling mass of old people, young families, and mischievous children.

A few weeks ago my beloved wife and a couple of her female buddies partook of the American ritual of a “garage sale,” whereby — operating out of, or in front of, one’s garage — those offering the sale put out an incredible array of “things” that are not longer wanted, have stopped being useful, or are but the result of an inclination to downsize or reduce clutter. Then passers-by stop in to browse through what is offered.

In our case, the items on sale (for ridiculously low prices, especially compared to their original “value”) included: items of clothing (blouses and shorts), a small automatic coffee maker, some battered but still sturdy kitchen chairs, photographs of wildlife and scenery, and even a steamer for use by upholsterers (among her many talents, my wife had once had her own upholstery shop in her hometown).

Personally, I have long looked upon such rituals with a mixture of tolerance and amusement, but I have come to acknowledge that such sales often lead to encountering some very interesting individuals. As an example, one of the times I had come out of the quiet house (where I had been reading) to see if the women needed coffee or sandwich refreshments, I happened to notice a young woman looking through the many blouses for sale.

Her back was to me, but I still noticed the tattoos snaking around her neck and her hair that was spiked in places, long in others, and cropped very short in other places. When she turned towards me I discovered she was quite pretty, despite her tattoos and her now obvious body piercings (including two rings in her nose that made my own nostrils twitch).

Quite by accident I found myself in conversation with her and her equally pierced husband who, while many inches taller than I, was also quite slender. As the old saying goes, you can’t judge a book by its cover, for I discovered that these were two lovely individuals, committed to the music they made and performed together, and that — in social and political attitudes — we were as akin as two peas in a pod.

The more than 35 years between us just receded as we people just talked. When her husband learned that I had been one of the New Left movement back in the ‘60s he seemed impressed, as much by my long-held convictions, I think, as by the fact that he saw me as something of a surviving relic of the “long ago.” Their decency, their commitment to doing all that they could to build a more just and peaceful society and world helped assuage some of the sadness I felt for what our country has become.

There is still hope, for there is always rebirth, new life, and new beginnings. I write to you with some sadness, but also with renewed hope.

 

The author is a retired statesman from the United States.