Watching a random television show last night set in New York City, there was a scene of two folks driving their car down a city street not the sort you see as a tourist – a street of old warehouses and few people. The marvelous skyscape was mere backdrop, not the main character at all. Yet it was there.
And this country dweller was moved to love of people – the masses of people who make a city possible –
the architects and builders, the menial and grand laborers who actually give birth to a building so tall it bids me look at the sky to take it in.
the people who thought of, designed and built cars . . . and telephones that evolved into cell phones and the many technologies people around the world use today . . .
hospitals where people work and serve every day to make other people better when they leave than when they came in . . .
clothing that warms and protects and creates beauty as surely as a painter before a canvas . . .
And they did it all, for better as well as worse, cooperatively, working with others side by side.
I can and have done none of these things. But I have profited from them all.
The same species that kills and destroys also builds and creates, dreams and imagines, and in the doing, changes a world.
I find that spectacular.
There is much to love in a city, even for a country gal.