Wendy and I returned from a trip to New York last night. It’s good to be home. I’d missed my own bed and my dog and the slightly warmer Virginia weather. Nonetheless, the trip was wonderful, and I look forward to going again.

I enjoy visiting Wendy’s family and seeing New York. None of us, I suppose, is immune to predispositions about other parts of the country, and I must admit that I’m still shaking off some of my own dyed-in-the-wool ideas about the citizens of the big Blue state. I couldn’t resist snapping the picture below… it captures my lifelong ideas about New York in a nutshell:



There is, of course, more to New York than bagels, liquor, and liberals. Every trip I make up north is another reminder that I have a great many of my beliefs because I’ve chosen them and not because they’ve been formed by experience.

The highlight of the trip was our visit with Wendy’s uncle and aunt on Saturday night. Henry and Kathy are the kind of folks that I’ve always thought of as well-off. They’ve done well for themselves and their successes have afforded them opportunities that I envy. Still, Henry and Kathy are as down-to-earth and instantly likable as anyone I’ve ever met. Being well off isn’t always synonymous with being snooty, and I felt as welcome and accepted in their home as I have anywhere.

When I write that I envy some of the opportunities that Henry and Kathy have enjoyed, I’m mainly talking about the chances they’ve had to travel abroad. They’ve had a number of visits to Europe and Russia, and you only have to talk to them for a few minutes to see how much they’ve appreciated those visits. It’s apparent that their drive to travel is rooted in their interest in meeting and getting to know people, learning about other cultures and ways of life, and enriching their own lives in the process. I’ve always had preconceived ideas about Americans who spend time abroad, and none of those ideas apply to Wendy’s aunt and uncle.

Henry and Kathy have been visiting Russia and Eastern Europe since well before the fall of the Soviet Union. They’ve been first-hand witnesses to the changes that have taken place there over the past twenty years, and I loved talking to them about their experiences. Like most Americans, I have my own ideas about communism and inroads made by capitalism in the former USSR… but my ideas are based on what I’ve read, what I’ve seen on TV, and my own political inclinations. Talking to Henry and Kathy gave me an opportunity to understand those issues better… and, of course, to realize that things are both simpler and more complex than I imagine. Wendy’s aunt and uncle have shared meals with impoverished Russian families and with privileged Soviet officials. They’ve seen first hand exactly what communism does to a nation, the harm that it causes, and also the harm that it prevents. They’ve literally seen the Berlin Wall at its strongest, and they’ve seen it in ruins. They don’t need to be told about it. They haven’t had to form their ideas about what it means based on what they’ve read. They’ve been there, they’ve experienced it tangibly.

Wendy’s aunt and uncle were, of course, aware of the politics of that part of the world, and the effects that political change has had on the people who live there. But their interest is in the people themselves, first and foremost. To me, the end of the Soviet Union is a fascinating period of history and a series of interesting events that I watched on TV and read about. To Henry and Kathy, it was a major change in a part of their own world and it changed the lives of individual human beings that they know. If I can say that I saw the Berlin wall come down, then it must be said that they felt it come down. And in a way I can only imagine.

Talking with them about these things was wonderful for me. As I said, it made me acutely aware of how much of what I believe is based on predispositions that I’ve chosen for myself. The freedom to choose your beliefs is a luxury in itself. As I also said, I now have a refreshed sense of how things are usually both simpler and more complex than I realize.

Henry has several pieces of the Berlin Wall that he collected himself. Before we left, he gave me a piece of it. This was thrilling for me, as a history buff and as an occasional student of human nature. It’s a small piece of concrete about the size of my thumb, and I plan to find a place of honor to display it in our home. I’ll treasure it, not just as a souvenir of the visit to New York, and not just as a symbol of an important part of world history that occurred during my lifetime… but as a reminder of things I spend too little time thinking about. As a child, the Berlin Wall was an undeniable symbol of the things that separate us. As an adult, this small piece of rock is a symbol of what we have in common.

As we drove back to the hotel from Henry and Kathy’s house, my mind was racing. I was thankful for the opportunity to have spent some time with them, and for the chance to have spent some time seeing things with a clarity that I rarely enjoy. People are people. All of us, each individual among us, is a child of God. For all our differences, we are all the same. It doesn’t matter if we are separated by miles of interstate, or by oceans, or by the enmity of our governments. It doesn’t matter if our communication is impeded by the music of dialect or by the barriers of language. What matters is that we try to bridge our divisions, and that we try to enjoy our differences even as we work to overcome them. What matters is that we travel the miles that keep us apart. The trip is always worth it.