I was born and raised in Brooklyn, NY. One of my favorite pastimes as a teen was traveling by subway to Manhattan to visit the NY Public Library. I enjoyed perusing all of the books in the stacks and climbing the massive set of stairs in front to enter the library. But my true secret love was people-watching. I would purchase a large pretzel with mustard from a cart in front of or near the library, along with a beverage—usually a Pepsi—and sit on the stairs to people-watch.

I observed tourists from all around the world, curiously admiring the large buildings or furrowing their brows while buried in paper maps, trying to figure out where they were and how to get to where they wanted to go. I watched native New Yorkers and folks from the surrounding states rushing to and fro—on their way to work, lunch, a meeting, or the commuter rail home. But the most fascinating individuals were those in their true element. People who didn’t have a care in the world—or didn’t care that the world was watching—and, true to form, would do something so out of the ordinary that the characters in the sci-fi novels I was reading seemed normal by comparison.

People are strange, funny, quirky, and embody all the adjectives you can find in a thesaurus. They never failed to amuse or bemuse me. One thing I noticed, regardless of hue, nationality, or class, is that we are all the same. With all the vitriol and hate that has resurfaced and now looms like a towering mountain in our midst, let’s not lose sight of our collective and shared humanity.

Remember to be kind, step outside of your comfort zone, and give people the benefit of the doubt. Also, hug your children more often and tell them you love them. Clearly, some very powerful people on the national stage were not hugged enough as children.