How a Short Woman with a Shredded Wheat Craving Could Save America

I’m tallish by American standards (six foot one), which makes me a target for certain requests in grocery stores. They go like this: a total stranger of diminutive stature—always a woman, I’m not sure why—wants to grab a box of Shredded Wheat for her family. The store, however, has placed it on the top shelf, way out of her reach. She spies me headed her way. Guess what she thinks next:

1. (to herself) “Hmm. Person approaching. Tall. Bet they can reach the Shredded Wheat.” (out loud) “Excuse me….”
2. (to herself) “Hmm. Person approaching. Long hair, is that a woman’s shawl he’s wearing? Probably votes Biden. No way. We’ll have Cocoa Puffs again.”

This is probably not as slam-dunk as I’d like it to be. Surely there are people who would never ask for help from a person of another race, or gender, or political persuasion. But from what I’ve seen as a white, nonbinary center-lefty, Shredded Wheat wins every damn day.

I’ve been paying close attention to this lately, and not just in grocery stores. The people who make our weekly calzone always banter a little with me. The guys at the town dump share a joke. An older woman says “thank you” when I hold the door open for her; sometimes a young man does too.

Almost without fail, if they interact at all, it’s polite, pleasant, even warm. Call it a bond of the everyday: the dozens of tiny but civil interactions that, just for a second or two, tie us together. They’re every bit as substantial as the comment from the troll who flamed you on Twitter the other day. More so if the troll posted anonymously.

Here’s why I’m writing this. You may have noticed that, um, Americans are a tad miffed at one another. And by a tad miffed I mean raging, bulge-eyed, heart-attack-inducing furious. Some of them are talking about civil war. You know the situation. There seems to be nothing to bring us together again.

But what if we start small--really small, with the bonds of the everyday (among other things)? And maybe a shift in focus too, as in, we start paying as much attention to these warm and happy exchanges as we do to the race baiting and cancelling and whatnot on social media? What if we set our hearts on those everyday bonds?

This may sound Pollyanna to some. And of course it won’t solve everything. But the reconciliation’s got to start somewhere. You’ve got thoughts; I’d love to hear them. Bonus points if you can help me see, thoughtfully, where I’m wrong.