I wish I would have had more awareness as a child, but I didn’t.
What I mean is that I grew up essentially in a two-mile radius. From the time I was born, we lived at the same address, 134 E. Bruce Avenue in Dayton, Ohio. Our school, a Catholic school, was a mile away, and our ball diamonds, a mile in the other direction.
We did the same things, in the same places, with the same people, every day. I have said in the past that I didn’t know there was anyone on the planet but Catholics until I was twelve. But it is mostly true.
Of course, I knew about other cultures. Heck, every night at dinner, we’d hear about the starving children in Africa if we shirked about eating our green beans. But I didn’t have a true concept of those children in Africa or their lives. We had a few vacations growing up, but those were rare. And typically, we went to Kentucky or to Pennsylvania, which weren’t large cultural shifts.
Every kid looked the same, in the row after row of houses, on those streets, block after block, between here and where ever. My parents weren’t brainwashing us, but I imagine that is a little bit what brainwashing is like. We were contained from the “outer” world, or certainly anything different than our own culture.
Pearl Buck once said, “One faces the future with one’s past.” I believe this to be true.
Our forward experiences are shaped by our past experiences. There is no way around it.
I was reminded of all of this early today. I was reading someone else’s thoughts on Trump’s refusal to admit he’s lost the election. I thought about the millions of people who sit bleary-eyed, agreeing with him.
This, all despite the fact that he has failed to produce ANY evidence of voter fraud, not even one piece. Despite the fact that his lawsuits have failed 50 times, in all but one case, people continue to believe him at face value. Fact-checkers have shown that he averages 17 lies per day, this man Trump. But his people believe.
His followers live in their own little neighborhood. On their own Trump streets, with their own Trump people, watching their own Trump world on FOX. They don’t have the capacity, I think, to assimilate what the rest of the entire world is seeing.
But I didn’t wish to go down that path. It just happened to be what stimulated my thoughts on this, the fact that I grew up in a bubble.
There were a couple of times when our parents would take us “up to the country.” This translated to where my Mom’s parents grew up, in Auglaize and Mercer County. I wish I had paid more attention, but I can remember my first thought as I stepped foot out of our station wagon. “There’s SO much dirt here.” Not dirt — as in unclean. But land dirt. Everything around the house was dry, dusty, dirt, leading to the barns, more dirt, around the chicken coops, more dirt. They probably had grass too, but I was used to seeing concrete everywhere. That’s what we drove on in the city.
And to be honest, I don’t remember much else about those couple of trips, except being very afraid of my Mom’s aunts, who didn’t smile much and talked a little funny. (Note: Upon finding the photos of the place, they did have grass. And so our memories work how they do.)
My existence had been sheltered. Not intentionally. We were just living our “contained” lives in our little, very little corner of the world. And I was, every day, facing my future with my past. My bologna sandwiches on white bread, and my small collection of Big Little Books. Church on Sunday, and pass the potatoes.
These days, thankfully, our view of the world has expanded with the advent of the internet. It has become extremely easy to find information. But in truth, our world only opens up when we want it to. It is ours to decide.
I see so much “passing of judgment” due to the differences between people. But I am wagering, if those “differences” were truly explored, we’d have much more acceptance in the world.
Our streets would get a little wider, a little longer, and a little more inclusive.
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Diversity is about all of us, and about us having to figure out how to walk through this world together.
— Jacqueline Woodson
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Inclusion is not a matter of political correctness. It is the key to growth.
— Jesse Jackson
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A lot of different flowers make a bouquet.
— Islamic Proverb
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The little corner of the world kind of bubble.
