Middle of Everywhere - Mary Bray Pipher [146]
The worst thing about America is its exclusivity, and the best thing about America is its lack of exclusivity. We are not bigger or richer in natural resources than Russia or China. It is our open arms and hearts that have made us a great power. The central fact of our American identity is that we take people in. We make room for refugees. We are the city on the hill.
Community does not mean "free of conflict." It's inevitable and even healthy to have great differences. Diversity in community is as healthy as diversity in any ecosystem. Without diversity in age, ethnicity, and ideas, we don't have communities; we have lifestyle enclaves. Even conflict can lead to closeness. As Dennis Schmitz wrote, "Humans wrestle with each other, and sometimes that wrestling turns into embracing."
Long ago, Carl Rogers noted the paradox that the most personal is the most universal. The deeper we go into our souls, the more they look like everyone else's soul. Carlos Fuentes wrote, "Reconozcamonos en el y ella que no son come tu y yo." Or, "Recognize yourself in he and she who are not like you and me." At heart, we all want the same things—happy families, good health, close friends, and useful work. We want freedom and respect.
One time I sat at the health department with a pregnant Sudanese teenager. She was tall and wore her hair in dreadlocks. She had on a red polka-dot dress and purple slippers and was a marvelous, but unusual, sight. As she and I sat waiting for her appointment, a Vietnamese toddler approached us. The little girl stared at my friend for a very long time.
At first it was cute, then it grew a bit uncomfortable. The toddler was examining my friend as if she were trying to decide if she was human. All of a sudden, the little girl smiled broadly and blew my friend a kiss. We laughed in relief, but the laughter was about something deeper than relief. It was about the ability of us humans to recognize ourselves in another. It was about our ability to see our common humanity and blow each other a kiss of welcome.
"Civilization can in a certain sense be reduced to one word—welcome," Stanley Crouch said on the Ken Burns PBS series on jazz. For all our flaws, we Americans have been, for hundreds of years, the people in the world who said welcome.
When Europeans arrived on this continent, they blew it with the Native Americans. They plowed over them, taking as much as they could of their land and valuables, and respecting almost nothing about the native cultures. They lost the wisdom of the indigenous peoples—wisdom about the land and connectedness to the great web of life. What a different America we would have today if the first Europeans had paid more attention to native traditions.
We have another chance with all these refugees. People come here penniless but not cultureless. They bring us gifts. We can synthesize the best of our traditions with the best of theirs. We can teach and learn from each other to produce a better America. This time around, we can get things right.
CODA
WE'RE ALL HERE NOW
On a sunny Saturday in July, my husband and I walked into our farmers' market which is down by the train station in the oldest part of town. We walked by Jim's friend of thirty years who was selling sweet corn. Gary looked hot and harried, so Jim stopped and gave him a quick shoulder rub. Gary smiled gratefully and began to joke again with his customers.
We walked past various brightly colored displays of Super-soynuts, kolaches, gourmet mushrooms, sausage, and prairie flowers. A Latino family sold gladiolas, iris bulbs, and catnip. Beside them a man in overalls grilled green onion sausage. Its spicy pork flavor filled the air. An Italian man and his son stood behind quart jars of homemade pasta sauce. An aged Vietnamese couple sold bean paste dumplings and egg rolls. Many Vietnamese families shopped at the market for fresh produce and flowers. I looked in vain for Ly, the student who thought I was beautiful. I would have given a great deal to see her smiling face this morning.
Women