The Mask

Nearly every seat in the coffee shop is occupied.  Little boys stroll up to the door with painted faces, bike helmets as their crowns, and knee high rain galoshes hold the legs of their britches above their knees.  Little girls walk by the window with ice cream in hand and ballerina tights.  The sun shines upon the melting snow and dissipates the dust and grime.  And elderly mother and her daughter sit nearby providing a running commentary on what is happening around us.  It is not quite spring, but the weather is providing a teaser for what is to come.

People abound: 

• ,
• t'weens exploring their expanding freedom,
• mature adults absorbing the rays of the late winter sun, 
• couples walking hand in hand,
• commuters with rapid, long strides coming from the train station,
• a rough looking man with a scraggly beard baring a bouquet of flowers,
• teens side by side staring at their cell phones.  
• a woman carrying all she owns in grocery sacks on her arm.
• the men beside me speak softly in Slavic accents while a couple nearby speaks German to one another.

This is the community: diverse, vibrant, and on the move. 

The calm surrounding me is deceptive.  I've seen this community in another, less calm state.  I've heard the hurling of accusations and insults. I've listened  to suspicions and fears.  I've witnessed hatred and cold hearts. The serenity of this moment is a mask covering a teeming pool of emotion.  There is division and derision beneath the surface.  

It's one thing to disagree about something.  There was a time when disagreement did not render incivility and hatred.  There was a time when disagreeing parties could sit down together and work out a mutually agreeable solution.  There was a time.... 

What has happened to us? Why do we see things as bilateral: my way or the highway?  Why must hatred be the endgame of differences?  Why?