Started my morning with a cup of tea and the news… and soon after rapidly switched over to a favorite place with thoughtful articles, about people working to improve the human condition; their own and others, and the earth’s condition.

And then there’s American society’s condition; oh, the little things like; racism, misogyny/sexism, pandemics beside Covid such as living unhoused in a car/van/underpass/park, being hungry, having mental health issues and no way to get treatment which is part of the larger issue of health care that serves corporations rather than people who need care and can’t afford it.

An embroidery project — a gift to dear Katie in Illinois. Quote by Mother Teresa; “We can do no great things, only small things with great love.”

And there’s more but it’s a beautiful sunny day here in Colorado, so on to the “good” news. Today’s story captured me. It’s about meeting new people who don’t necessarily look like you/me. Here’s a sample;

“So simply mixing with different kinds of people—passing one another in the aisles at Target, for example, or sitting near each other on public transit—is good; interacting with them, like at a meeting or across the counter of a business establishment, is better. Best of all, of course, is a close friendship, the kind where you socialize in one another’s homes, call each other when you’re down, or borrow money when you’re broke. But getting there is the tricky part.”

This took me back in time to a memory of choosing to go to Germantown High School [in Philadelphia, PA.] rather than, at that time, the highly esteemed, Girls High. All girls. I wanted to see boys, even if most of them were black. This was the first time I argued for what I wanted and won, despite the stupid stories/gossip that was untrue. I went unafraid and excited and glad for my choice. Many of my friends were to graduate in 1968; yes that’s horrendously long ago but not my point!

My memory is of after-school meetings to which I, as a white person, was not invited and did not attempt to go. What I heard from outside in the hallway; Jesse Jackson‘s voice and then the students in the audience; call and answer;

“I am somebody!” “I am somebody!”

While I can’t be excused for staying home before covid, that’s more due to my age and caregiving that zaps my energy and my hundreds of books to re-read. Recently my son has begun going out again. On Mondays to a dance class in a yoga studio, and on Tuesdays to an art class attached to an Art Gallery here in Denver. The art group is lively, despite masks that can hinder clear speech. It is busy with people at work; creating art.

Nate is happy!

(I am too, now that his creation has more than a white background.)

I have been enjoying hanging out on the fringes of both of his classes. I will readily admit my children and the grandson I know/love, all fascinate me. Not as an extension of me [and their other parent], but as the engaging people they are in their own bodies and minds and beings. There is diversity in our lives, but I’ll have to think on how to widen it; easy or not.