shawna.

I am currently reading John Steinbeck's Travels with Charley: In Search of America, a book recommendation by the most trustworthy Nicole at www.anothernicole.com.  His description of the tumultuous South in 1960 touched me deeply today, and inspired this poem. I realize that we're not dealing with the same issues today that he witnessed then, and am so grateful for that. But I am affected by that history and hope to continue learning from it.

Tonight I talked to

the young African-American woman 

who rang me up at HEB

because stories of suffering from another century reminded me

that she was a person. 

Tonight I wondered

how could you be so full of hatred

as to yell obscenities at a six-year-old girl

just for going to school?

And yet

how could I be so self-absorbed

as to withhold genuine kindness and decency from others

just because I don't know them?

Tonight I learned

in ten items or less

that Shawna had kids and went to school

and worked til midnight to make ends meet

and was so grateful for her blessings. 

I learned she wasn't a robot. 

Like I had treated so many Shawnas before.