One day last week, the day after I finished listening to an audio version of Ta-Nehisi Coates’s book “Between the World and Me,” I went for a run. Truth be told, parts of the book were a tough listen for me. Coates’s language is gorgeous. But he had hard words for our country and when the book was finished, I felt a sense of despair that more hasn’t changed in the one hundred fifty-one years since slavery was abolished in this country. Or in the fifty some odd years since the Civil Rights Act was passed.
So, I went for a run. And I decided that on that run, I would smile at every human being that I saw. It was a sweltering morning in Philadelphia with the humidity pushing the temperature to feel closer to 100 then the actual 85 degrees. We were all sweaty out there. We were running; we were walking; we were biking. We were young and old and we were men and women and we were all shades of color. We walked with dogs or strollers or just with friends. Some of us were alone. I smiled at every one of us. Many didn’t register me, either engaged in conversation or maybe working through the pain of their workout. Some met my eye and didn’t smile back. But others did. They caught my smile and tossed it back to me, doubled. A smile may seem a small thing, but it was a small thing that I had control over.
That night, my younger son had some friends over. Well, he’s said it would be a few. It was closer to a dozen. With Coates’s words swirling in my head, I watched these teens enter my house, all different shades of the human rainbow. They’d gathered because several of them had pitched in to build a computer for one of the guys so that he could game with them. These are not kids who grew up the dangerous parts of our city, like the area where Coates grew up in Baltimore. But neither are they all suburban kids, protected with fenced-in yards. I marveled, not for the first time, how different my sons’ lives are from how I grew up. How much more of the world they’ve seen, how much they already know about justice and compassion and right living.
I can’t repair the scars that divide our country all by myself. But I can do what I can in my corner of the world. And I can share my smiles with all of those traveling this road alongside me.