An early comparison

Two days ago, I was standing in a beautiful wood-paneled room on the campus of Washington University. Outside on the porch, with a free bar overlooking a huge green back lawn, an entire wedding population mingled over drinks. In my room, there was a jazz quartet. They were hired for the wedding, almost playing as "background music." The drummer was a friend of the groom, and while the groom was able to flash into that room, the drummer quickly started the groom's favorite tune. The groom couldn't stay long though; there was mingling to be done with everyone on the porch. This left me alone in a beautiful room with a jazz quartet all to my own. As I sipped my glass of clear, bubbly, iced wonder of a gin and tonic, the members of the quartet took their solos, and I gave praise after each one. At some point, I stared in my glass and thought about where I'd be in a week. I'd be in Kedougou, sweating through my shirt, sitting on the main road and watching people go by.
I was lucky. Americans, in general, are pretty lucky. Not every American ends up with a nice drink and a jazz quartet all to their own, but often we find ourselves in situations where we can just relax. Whether it's going our with a good friend or just sitting in a nice chair with a beer to watch a football game, we all have times to just sit back. We don't have to worry about things that the people in Kedougou worry about. These abrupt contrasts help me see the world as a whole. I don't dwell on it all the time (I'd be kind of a downer to be around), but with these world's so close together, it seems easy to take one thing and bring it to the next. When it seems so easy, that's just what you do. That's just what we do.