For months I’ve been sitting in the same chair watching the same news channels listening to how our society has broken up into two distinctive groups. This brought back memories of a time when we were able to actually live our lives.

After looking at the menu and the ambiance of the lobster pound where they only served lobster, chowder, and some hamburgers and hot dogs, my friends advised we should go to the “other side.” Asking what they meant I was told there was a better restaurant owned by the same people down the road where we could get what we wanted and could be served in a more prestigious area.

As the group discussed the possibilities I decided to wander around the place where my friends did not want to stay. It was my kind of place.

The people who filled the room were having a good time. It was loud and if there had been any background music playing it was overwhelmed by the sound of people enjoying each other. They grouped around old round tables that had obviously taken a bit of abuse over the past few decades. I can’t say they were all young even though many were. I can say they were all enjoying the food and the company they found themselves in. The place even had a scent that reminded me of friendship and the journey we all take attempting to become.

Walking back toward my party I was all set to try to convince them this was the place we belong in. Needless to say I failed. The people I was with decided to go to the other side where the food was said to be more diverse and where people like us should be. People like us?

Walking down the road I could almost feel the change in atmosphere. The little warmth I felt in the other place was replaced by a kind of clean sterile chill.

After I sat down I observed there were few young people hanging around the room. Instead there were sophisticated groups of individuals quietly talking about what they considered important. These people talked quietly because they did not want to disturb other people sitting around them. There was music playing in the background I desperately attempted to ignore. The room was better lit and had the smell of nothing. A waiter then appeared to take our drink orders that were delivered in fancy glasses and frozen pilsner goblets. Sipping my beer I missed the smell of plastic that preambles the taste of my beverage reminding me of summer days and football games.

The meal was delivered with few at the table ordering another drink. I did and my son-in-law and daughter did the same. Looking at them trying to enjoy the crusted fish they had just ordered I could see in their eyes they would rather be on the other side.

Too bad our world has evolved this way. I remember a time when there was only one side. But, maybe those were they days when I wasn’t invited into the place where I now sit.

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