Considerate Inclusion
Dear
Girlfriends,
Every
Saturday morning, Steve and I hop on our bikes for our ten-mile ride around White Rock
Lake. The small city lake
and her parks are a Dallas
treasure. It's a fabulous place. Lots of trees, picnic areas, running and
biking trails, squirrels, ducks, sailboats, and people. Lots of people.
People in
cars. People on foot. People with strollers. People on bikes. People on skates.
Alone. Together. Sometimes with kids. Sometimes with dogs. Sometimes with dogs
and kids, and on skates. It's a fabulous place.
People in
good moods and people who are fussy. Everyone is accepted. The friendly people
take the as*h*les in stride and the cranky people (usually on fast bikes) somehow
manage to pull every ounce of patience together in order to get around the lake
without running over anyone.
I hear people
speaking languages I've never heard, walking along in brightly colored sarongs
and plastic flip flops. The women are laughing; I don't get the joke but I get
the joy.
I smell fajitas
being grilled as people celebrate the weekend with their families. They're cheering,
in Spanish, as a little fellow finally takes off on his two-wheeled bike, for
the first time. I remember the jubilation.
I watch twenty-something
women in teensey-weensy shorts and halter tops, jogging (without sweating) as
they look for tonight's date. They laugh together at something a young
hunk-of-a- man just said in passing. I remember flirting.
I marvel at
the seventy-something people, lean and tan, looking like they've run a thousand
miles. They laugh at everything because they know something we don't. I
remember that laugh from my grandmother.
I barely
see the Lance Armstrong wanna-be's as they whiz by on their bikes like a bullet
train. They're not all as*h*les. As they pass me on my left, I hear them laugh,
as they share a story about something that happened at the office. I think of my office mates and smile.
People of
all ages - newborn to nearly dead. People of all ethnicities - plain white to
midnight and every shade in between. People of all orientations - gay and
straight; some probably confused. People of all sizes: short, tall, thin, very
thin, heavy, very heavy. It's a fabulous place.
And this is
what I want Ava to see. A world where everyone is welcome to laugh, to
love, and to be loved.
I want Ava
to see that considerate inclusion is the opposite of isolation; considerate
inclusion means meeting people on common ground where we all experience life. It's learning to belong to the human race by
engaging in life alongside others - even if we're not involved in their
conversation. It's learning, through the expression of respectful interest, about
those whose cultures and religions are different from our own; and it's
learning to put aside our prejudices if our value systems don't perfectly
align. Considerate inclusion is forgetting about what makes us different and
remembering those things we have in common.
We may have all come
on different ships, but we're in the same boat now.
- Martin Luther King, Jr.
For the
most part, in Dallas,
like most towns and cities across the country, we still localize and live
amongst our own. But on Saturday morning at White Rock Lake, we come together. Everyone is
welcome. And I can't wait to take Ava. It's a fabulous place.
That will
be us laughing - passing on your left,
Ellen,
a.k.a. Sugar
Posted by Ellen on July 23, 2008 2:17 PM
| Category: What Does It Look Like?
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