Diversity to Focus
We live in an extraordinary country, which I think many people are too busy in their own lives to appreciate. We are remarkably diverse, as those of you who have traveled can attest to personally. From the slow, swampy South to the cold stoicism of New England, through the meat-’n-potatoes Rust Belt and the ever-waving grainy Mid West across the butte-butt Mountain Zone to the Pacific Coast. And here in The Golden State, you see a wide range of cultures that mirrors the diversity of the country itself, from the peg-toothed rednecks in the scattered ruralites to the presque-sophisticates of the urban centers, from the Sillycon Valley techies and the social pioneers of Sodom and Marin.
And did I mention Southern California, which is different from everywhere by a long shot and then some? The population of the Los Angeles metropolitan area is larger than many of the countries of the world, and peopled by probably most of them. This part of California, this part of the United States, seems to be a magnet both domestically and internationally, attracting Nathaneal West’s locusts by the gazillions, often for reasons unclear.
Some wanted to be stars, and even if most were beyond-the-pale delusional, some still deserved credit for pursuing their dreams, from all odd corners of the Earth. Others were drawn to The Southland by manifest destiny, acting out of instinct rather than purpose. Some of the attraction was that the weather is warm during the winter; some was that the social climate explodes most standards.
Still, or maybe because, there are some extraordinary people here. We celebrated Christmas Day with a bunch of them. Eyad, Linda’s son-in-law, is a recent U.S. citizen; he moved here with his family from Jordan, married Daughter Denise, and fathered two on the brightest, most engaging boys one could imagine. Carmen and her son dropped by for an early afternoon traditional dinner; she came from Canada many years ago, and on Christmas brought with her a nephew who smilingly tolerated my hobbled French.
Before our digestion was complete, The Lovely Linda and I were plying remarkably clear freeways to Pasadena, where we a-lighted at the new home of our friend Maddalena Serra. I have written of her before; she owns Cafe Maddalena in Dunsmuir, an hour north of Redding, where she produces some of the finest food every to delight an appreciative and discerning palate. She’s tiring of the restaurant business, at least from the owner-chef basis, and bought a small house with a huge garden in one of the lovely little neighborhoods you have to know where it is to find, as a place from which to spread her considerably talented wings. Will she teach art, sell her paintings or her drawings or her photographs? Will she manage an upscale dining establishment or hire herself out to a top-drawer bakery? Will she produce more radio or a cookbook? Any or all are possibilities.
But Christmas night saw her cooking for four friends. I won’t recount the menu, it would be unfair; suffice it to say that getting up from the table after five hours was a fight with gravity and reason. Complementing a repast that brings tears of joyful memory to the mind’s eye, were a fellow from France and another from Italy, both deliciously thoughtful and participatory. All three of these foreign-borns know more about America’s role on the world stage than most Americans. Rather than typical apathy or despondence, they sport awareness and grounded hope.
This is what and who our country is about, not just the diversity, but the depth, not the crippled myopia of slothful, but the expanded consciousness of a resolute global mind. This is not a paean to patriotism, false or true, but an expression of excitement about human potential. I have long thought, and now more than ever, that America is the confluence of the greatness of East and West, and the birthplace of the future of mankind. But hang on, the birthing process is a struggle.
And that’s SetonnoteS...I’m Tony Seton.
.