Walking down the street

Sometimes I walk down toward Cedar Creek. It’s a small river that goes through the middle of town. It’s nice to watch from the bridge and see the water stream by beneath the trees along its banks. As I walk down the street, often there are people sitting on their porches.

I often wave at them or greet them as I pass. There are other houses that look well maintained but no signs of the residents. I wonder what their lives are like. I don’t expect that I’ll ever know. It wouldn’t be polite to go up to their door and ask, “what are you doing tonight?” I guess that lack of knowledge that is a natural state of affairs that hasn’t changed for a longtime.

a juicy red apple

When I speculate on their lives, I can come up with all sorts of stories. Listening to the comments of family and reading blogs, it seems that the idea of a charitable appraisal isn’t very popular… that the people that disagree with me are deluded or somehow dangerous.

That’s not the attitude that I learned growing up. People can disagree and I don’t need to speculate as to their motives.

It’s easier to feel comfortable with people you see in town. They might be at the store or church. Perhaps I’ll run into them at a sports arena or concert. That familiarity isn’t offered to people further away from the next state or nation. While, in theory, I might believe that we’re all created the same, it’s too easy to speculate, if not here in my neighborhood, across the country something is amiss.