The Melting Pot

I grew up in a melting pot. I almost think that kids raised in non diverse cultures have a serious disadvantage.  I loved being exposed to so many cultures every day and completely unaware that I was. I just thought it was life.  Thinking back on those days, I have so many fond memories of people who have taught me so much.  Today I glance into a world that appears to not have had the raising I did.

My first after school job is still my favorite.  The owner and my boss were orthodox Jewish and I had the best working experience of my life.  They treated all employees like family.  I always got tickled before the holidays like Yom Kipper and Passover, the wives would call and remind them of when to be home before dark and the plans for the events.  It made me grin because they would roll their eyes and come back with some Yiddish I didn’t know.  I did learn some Yiddish, 2 words exactly that I still use to this day. Oy Vey and Mashugginah.  My personal favorites. I was blessed to spend time with my boss’s dad who had escaped the concentration camps as a child and I was intrigued humbled with the stories.

On my way home from work every day I would stop at the Dairy Mart and get my 10:30 candy bar and a can of coke.  The owner used to give me a hard time at my unspontaneous choices. Then I gave it right back. I enjoyed the ribbing and I think he did too. I would ask him about where he was from and how he ended up here.  He wasn’t offended that I asked. I was just a curious teenager and I think he was even happy I asked. He was from India, first generation to come to America to try to make a living.  He was always asking me to work for him, but I never did.

On pay day I always had to get my check to the bank at lunch because when you’re 17, by pay day, your car is running on fumes.  As I walk into the bank by my work, the only language I hear is Spanish. I caught myself staring but not because they were speaking Spanish but because I was amazed at how fast those words would just roll out. I took Spanish since 5^th grade and it still took me 15 seconds to say “me yamo Cheryl”. Or however you spell it.

The short of it, I love learning about everyone. All cultures, all peoples of the world. I find stories fascinating and getting firsthand accounts of life unlike my own are amazing.  At no time did I ever feel the need to compare my life or issue a right or wrong judgement. Just pure privilege of getting to know people. I look around me today and feel like we need to stop arguing and ask more questions; stop judging and start listening with ears of wonder.   I know who I am already and I have my thing just as you know who you are and what your thing is. Let’s go get a cup of coffee and shoot the breeze awhile.