We're way more similar than different
A man walks down the street, talking to himself, raising his voice to emphasize a particular phrase, gesturing with his arms to make a particular point.
As I listen, it becomes obvious this gentleman is actually not talking to himself, but to some absent audience whose consent or approval is important to him.
In Washington, D.C., a while ago, I was witness to such spontaneous oratory not once, but twice, during a short walk I took one morning. And what amused, and bemused, me were the unique identities of the two individuals involved.
The first gentleman I encountered was one of Washington's all too numerous street people. Clothes ragged and disheveled, shoes untied, hair unkempt, it was easy to jump to the conclusion that he suffered from some sort of mental illness which contributed to his seemingly delusional conversation.
Yet, as I listened in, his presentation was coherent, logical and, had he actually had an audience, quite convincing.
A few minutes later, I was passed by yet another individual deep in conversation with some absent party. This gentleman was smartly dressed in a designer suit, highly polished shoes, and with his hair carefully cut and styled. He would have looked at home in any corporate board room or gathering of the political elite.
And he, too, was engaged in artfully articulating his position on some subject which I could not determine.
In retrospect, I wish I had followed this second audience-less orator and observed his encounter with the first. Would they have simply ignored each other, or might they have stirred from their self-absorbed orations sufficiently to recognize a fellow thespian? I wonder.
My chance encounters nagged at me the rest of the day. There was a point to be made, but I wasn't sure what it was (I'm still not).
Perhaps in all this, though, there is a lesson about our shared humanity. Whether we are confronted with different dress, different class, different race, different culture, or different language, we too often devalue or diminish others who are different from who we are. And we assume such differences far outweigh our similarities.
Maybe the differences we use to justify our prejudices blind us to the underlying humanness that unites us all. Maybe we're a lot less different than we think. Now, what if we treated each other that way?
• Dr. Ken Potts is on the staff of Samaritan Counseling Center in Naperville and Downers Grove. He is the author of "Mix Don't Blend, A Guide to Dating, Engagement and Remarriage With Children."