
Dear West Omaha,
I think it's about time we have a talk. For too long there's been friction between us and I'd like to raise my white flag. My prejudice was unjust. Let me explain.
Over the past ten years I've developed a grudge over some of your tendencies. I thought your unoriginal storefronts a blight. I hated that you were designed to fuel crazy-paced, shuttle-here, shuttle-there, with no pause for contemplation. Really, I thought that you crippled all of your inhabitants, keeping them from meaningful discourse, empathy for the poor/afflicted, self-reflection, taking risks, open-heartedness, and love for art & beauty. You're just so utilitarian and hurried.
Anyway, this is an apology letter, so let me confess that I've been wrong. Place does matter. Environment does shape us in many ways. But, if the soil is lacking nutrients, there are other ways to enrich and ensure growth. We water our raspberry plants and add natural vitamins at their roots, and that compensates for the weak soil along our back fence.
I think a lot of our conflict was my own doing. I've always hated exclusion. But here's the apology: I'm sorry for ruling out all of your citizens. When I'd come to visit, I'd turn my brain off and expect no depth in interaction. It was different this time. Maybe my stint with cynicism is waning, or maybe this was some angelic, Damascus-road experience that's open a world of possibility for the future.
Forgive me. The emphasis shouldn't be place, but people. And this time, ole buddy, ole pal West O, I'm grateful to have enjoyed so many people within your corridor. And Chipotle is so tasty.
Much love,
Caron Easley
(PS: Also, I'm sorry I wrote that nerd-core rap song about you. I was airing my dirty laundry. But seriously, you really should think about ending expansion and not using factory-built trusses and having more original live music. Oh, jeez, I've said too much)