The Bridge

I am of the era when the public school system was held in esteem and communities worked hard to ensure that all children were given a fair chance. I had the good fortune to grow up in a diverse community and while I will not pretend that racism did not exist, I can assure you it was held in check.

It was held in check by human beings who took on the responsibility to teach and to administer guidance, and strengthened by a community that refused to allow bigotry to rule. We enjoyed the company of people whose faith dictated the possibility of goodwill towards all.

I grew up as the war in Vietnam was coming to its bitter end.  A time before flower power, peace and love became mocked ideals. To me the dissenters of war were no less patriotic than the ones who fought. I still hold this as true.

When I was young to be a Christian meant to love your neighbor as yourself, and service to humankind was a worthy aspiration. I wasn’t taught the prosperity gospel. Worshiping the almighty dollar had nothing to do with “In God We Trust”. Somewhere over the past decades our greed has taken a devilish turn.

I have had the good fortune to travel the world and this is what I know: we are more similar than not. We have the same needs and the same hopes. Our needs are basic: food, shelter, clean air, clean water, mutual respect and a little bit of elbow room to celebrate our uniqueness. Our hopes can be distilled to one: the desire for peace.

It’s time to rediscover our humanity and to fight to preserve it. That will be the bridge over the chasm of indifference and hatred that we have allowed. 

**The photo is the bridge near the home of my childhood in western Pennsylvania.