SEEING SOME GOOD
O utside my window, it is reminiscent of the 1950s, at least the image I’ve constructed from family photos and popular culture. I see nuclear families playing pick-up baseball games in any old space, not an expensive turf. A couple kids ride by on their bikes, hollering to their siblings to keep up. In the evening, couples are strolling. Mornings, mothers are pushing strollers, looking ahead to eye their enthusiastic toddler. Seniors are ambling, chins titled upward as they take in the spring blossoms. Now and again, a car rolls quietly by. A little while later, if at all, a plane flies over. The sky is astonishingly blue. The air is breathable... easy. Birds can hear one another, and I can hear them. Moments last hours. Boredom is reborn. Neighbors don’t look busy, they look present. But in a few exquisite ways, this moment in time does not resemble the 1950s. Because the flow of people passing my window are of widely varied skin tones, religions and cultures, yet living p
