By DENA EAKLES | Ontario
Sometimes here in the Driftless I feel as though I am living through Dickens’ “A Tale of Two Cities.”
My predominant experience is of people who care for and about one another and that we are a kind lot.
Yet what I witnessed the other day at the roundabout outside of Cashton gave me pause. I was following a white truck through the circle to continue on toward Westby. Waiting to enter was an Amish horse and buggy being driven by two young men. The flashy white truck went into high gear as it passed the sitting buggy, throwing the rear end into a tailspin that nearly hit the horse. It was daylight, no rain and no reason for the action except one: the corruption of hate.
It happened quite quickly. The well-trained horse did not buck, but did reel back a bit. The two young men looked startled, but did not reflect back the anger that had just been dealt them. Those in my car were in shock, grateful that nothing more serious had happened, and though I tried in vain to read the license of the truck, I decided to settle for telling you this:
When we hate, we lose a piece of our selves. It is called respect. And if you do not have it for everyone, you surely do not have it for yourself. When any one of us is compromised by the sickness of hate, we are all compromised. Every day is full of choice; to follow a path of respect and kindness, or to follow a path of hatred and malice.
We owe it to ourselves and to our family, friends and neighbors to choose kindness. And in this time of willful hatred, it is imperative for us to stand firm.
Hatred is not welcome here.