Present and Available

The world feels increasingly defined by suspicion. Policies are framed as safeguards against imagined fraud; regulations multiply under the assumption that citizens cannot be trusted. Fear and mistrust are easier to sell than hope and possibility.  The political atmosphere feels mean‑spirited, preoccupied with taking things away, and oddly proud of pessimism.

However -----

One foggy morning in San Francisco’s inner Richmond, at a small coffee shop I frequent — a modest business with a good product and a staff as diverse as the city itself. I don’t know all their names, but we recognize one another. We are building the kind of relationship that grows from presence.

This morning a small group gathered on the corner: a woman with her six‑month‑old baby, a young man with his golden retriever, a young couple heading to work, and me. We began talking about the baby, sleeping peacefully, earning unanimous praise as “a good baby.” The mother laughed and admitted this was not the norm as sleep had not been abundant. In that moment, her child was perfect, and she seemed grateful for our collective affirmation.

The golden retriever made its rounds, greeting each of us with the diplomacy only dogs possess. We petted him and declared him a very good dog. Conversation drifted to our shared desire for warmer weather. The baristas inside suggested we solve the problem with a yacht and a day of drinking. We agreed the yacht was unlikely, but the day drinking was well within reach.

What stood out most was how kind we were to one another. Everyone was present, attentive, and willing to give what they had.  They were present and available.   If any of us had needed help, I have no doubt it would have been offered.

This is the part that those in power often forget. Most people are not driven by suspicion or scarcity. They are, in fact, positive, gentle, and quietly generous. They do not wake up looking for something to take away. They wake up hoping for a day that includes a moment of connection.

There is a disconnect between the lived experience of ordinary citizens and the mean‑spirited posture of those who govern them. While leaders seem intent on reclaiming, restricting, and reminding us of what might go wrong, the people on the corner simply go on enjoying the morning. They take nothing from one another except the warmth of a shared moment.

The irony is that the simplest form of civic life, five strangers and a dog on a foggy corner, offers more hope for the future. Left alone, people often create exactly what our politics lacks: generosity and the willingness to see one another as human.