A common humanity
It saddens me to see America struggle with so much division now. Yet it gives me hope to think back to a man I met on my cross-country ride who reminded me that you never know what a person’s story is — and you never know when you’ll find friendship with someone who seems different than you on the surface.
While crossing the Florida peninsula in a final leap toward the Atlantic Ocean, I took a day off in the town of Clewiston. Without much else to do, I decided to stop into the Clewiston Museum. As I wrapped up exploring the exhibits, a friendly man approached me and asked about my bike, which he had seen outside. I wasn’t in the best of moods and didn’t feel much like talking, but I politely engaged with him.
It turned out that this man, Butch, was the museum’s curator. He told me he rides his bike 12 miles to work each day, and asked where I was heading and where I had come from. After I told him, he invited me to come into a conference room and sit down to chat.
I agreed. And I’m really glad I did.
Over the next hour-and-a-half, Butch and I wound up having a thought-provoking, inspiring conversation. He had grown up in the area and moved away only for college, before coming back for a career with a sugar producer. He had a different accent than me; he had a different level of education than me; he was of a different religion than me; and he was brought up in a different kind of environment than me. Yet we shared a thirst for knowledge. Butch was well-read, thoughtful, and curious about the world. “I’m none of the above,” he told me, “but I’m a paleontologist, a naturalist, an environmentalist. I love agriculture. I’m part of all of it. I’ve just always enjoyed reading, and I’ve always been a historian at heart. So, coming here just all come together for me, buddy.”
Butch taught me about the area’s history of racial inequality. He knew that it was precarious to get “tunnel vision”, to not see the world beyond your hometown. He empathized with people who grew up struggling financially. Not only was he as smart as someone who might go off and get a master’s degree, but he had an enthusiasm for sharing that touched me.
“I’m not trying to leave a legacy or anything,” he said to me at one point. “I just want all the people growing up around here, or visitors, to enjoy our heritage.”
At a time when it’s so easy to see a group of people who vote differently, worship differently, or speak differently as the “other,” I, for one, refuse to fall into tribalism. I just won’t do it. I know our common humanity is stronger than that. The human connection I experienced on that cross-country trip transcended socioeconomic, ethnic, geographical, and religious differences. That human connection had a strand of universality to it. I am committed to keep on finding it, even when societal circumstances may make it seem difficult.
I really hope you will be, too.
What about you? Who’s someone who’s taught you or enriched you in an unexpected way? Share it with me, on our Facebook page.
