Sunday, November 18, 2012

Salt of the Earth

At the local Wawa tonight, I held a door open for an entering patron.  He did the same of an opposing door for me.  

A sort of raggedy fellow; in hunter's gear if I recall correctly. 

"Thanks man," I said in passing.  Simultaneously, he offered something similar.  

And my heart was warmed.  


These people are the salt of the earth. 

I wasn't much more elegant than this stranger.  In sweat pants, a hooded shirt, and beanie as I was. 

And it was clear.  We are all in this together. 

But far from city folk...

May one venture to the convenience store in D.C., New York or Los Angeles in clothing not even admirable in one's own house? 

Central Virginia residents are North Dakotans.  Only they don't know it.  

Common, forgettable niceties.  


But the core of what makes life in these United States so great. 

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