Living in a biggish city, I love the variety of people that I encounter. How fun it is to have cross-pollination of the various worlds we inhabit; I do love that.
I often think about juxtapositions among my nearest and dearest. The fact is that within a week’s time:
- I could have visitors who prefer Bircher muesli and visitors who prefer Lucky Charms.
- I could invite over the friends who grew up working picking fruit for pay in elementary school and those who counted their debutante year as the hardest “work” they’ve ever done.
- I could host English professors and non-English-speakers.
- I might spend time with a recent immigrant and then with those who don’t think there should be immigrants at all.
- I might trade book suggestions with some current administration politicos and then get a few tips from Bush 41 connections.
- I could host the crowd that wears Bulgari’s Pour Femme perfume and then people who are suspicious of deodorant with “active ingredients.”
I love the infinite variety of people found in this world. I love the variety found on any continent, in any country, in any state or region, in every city, in any neighborhood, up and down every street and — even — in any given family. When we’re open to variety and otherness, there’s never a dull moment.