Barrier

Today at work a little boy wandered into the home electronics department. He couldn't have been older than 3 and a half years old, probably closer to 3. My co-worker and I looked down at him and smiled. He stopped in front of us. "What do you need? Do you need to buy that?" my co-worker asked. He looked a little uncertain. Then I heard a voice speaking Spanish coming from the other side of the aisle, just outside the department. The little boy looked bemusedly from us to the speaker, who I assume was his father. Then I realized what was happening. The little boy was being sent into the department to buy the DVD he was holding or ask a question for his father, who was standing 10 feet away using the aisle as a barrier between himself and my co-worker and me.

This awkward moment sort of symbolized the struggle of the family, of our culture, and of our country as a whole to co-exist with others whom we don't understand. This little boy was so young he can barely speak either English OR Spanish, yet was forced to be a go-between for grown adults because neither side of the aisle had been given or taken the opportunity to learn the language of the other side. This lack of ability to communicate, and the innocent caught in the middle, and most interestingly the barrier that separated us, this obstacle, this bulwark, evoked an image of partisan politics that wrenches our country apart and leaves us standing confused and unable to function. Somehow we've become a nation with so much mistrust and shame that we've become the father, the son, the employee, and the store itself, unable to ask for help, unsure what help to ask for, and unable to give help even if we did know what was needed, and everybody spending valuable time and money trying to figure it out.