Most people don’t know how big the world is. They live out their lives in the communities they call home and don’t even think about the subject. This is true even if they are Chinese, Scottish, New Zealand coal miners, or Maine lobster fishermen.
I live in Northern Virginia. Two deer have ambled into my backyard. One casually grabs a bite of a leaf hanging from a branch close to the ground. The forty acre field on the west side of my house is ringed by thick trees that hint of a dense forest beyond.
It’s all an illusion. What are beyond are busy highways, schools, shops, airports, and more of the same repeating over again.
Last week I found myself in the rather slummy heart of Sterling, Virginia. Most neighborhoods have a definite ethnic character. This one was as mixed up as a tossed salad. After I made my donation to Goodwill, I wandered into an Asian market and purchased some hot sauce - red pepper and vinegar – as I like it. When I went to check out, the clerk – I have no idea whether she was Chinese, Vietnamese, Korean- indicated by pointing to a sign that I needed more items to total ten dollars which is the store’s minimum on charge purchases. No English was spoken – nor was it needed.
Outside on the sidewalk were a young black man and a pregnant white woman. Shouting at them from across the street was another young black man. The conversation went something like this:
“Hey my niggah! Where you been my niggah?
“I just got out of jail.”
“What you there for?”
“Not paying my support... not paying my damn support.”
The three joined together and turned into a Mexican restaurant/pool hall to talk over the situation. Nearby, two young Vietnamese were arguing about the properties of an ancient Volvo’s fuel injection system. I understood enough Vietnamese to follow the conversation. I even understood the part where one of them kicked the car.
Soon I was driving west out of Sterling back into America again. I waved to the El Salvadoran children living at the bottom of the hill from my house …
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