As our country, and more specifically our own community here in Abaco, moves forward in time a lot of things are becoming clear. I’m not talking about our economy becoming clear. No person could paint you a clear picture of what that sputtering machine is doing. Our economy sometimes reminds me of a supercharged Lamborghini sports car that we have hitched to a horse because we can’t, or won’t, take the time and sweat to assemble the engine or put gas in. Assuming that gas doesn’t get siphoned off by crooks, but that’s another story.
I’m not talking about the economy. Not this time. I’ve devoted a lot of column space to that subject and I will continue to. No, we’ll put that aside for now.
I’m talking about something that, as this country grows, becomes increasingly clear.
There is a rift. A chasm between what can be and what is. The talent of some of our fellow countrymen and women is immense. Extraordinary. Better than our international rivals I will say. Look through our sports pages. Look through our entrepreneur report (which, unfortunately, did not make this issue). Look at the top students and community leaders we continue to produce.
Then read about the cables being ripped out of the Jaws of Life. How much is a life worth? Obviously to some people: whatever the price-per-pound of copper is going for these days. Then read about the mountains of trash that grow, unimpeded, in many places on this island. No, there is no scapegoat here: we watch it happen.
Read about the artists on this very island that create. They make beautiful things out of near-nothing; reflections of our own lucky location on the globe.
Then read about how for the past few years the water table underneath our feet has slowly been poisoned. Because somehow, in this country of so many aforementioned brilliant people, we can’t seem to manage a landfill in a way that won’t eventually ruin our children’s health.
Read about our politicians’ keen plans for our communities. Read about our governments’ (past and present… as always) ideas to empower their populace.
Then read, and we have many back-issues of The Abaconian about this, about how we can’t drive 100 yards without a hitting a cavern.
Read about the wholesome traditions found in each of our communities.
Then remember how we watch the young men and women on this island behave.
There is a chasm. Growing faster than our roads’ potholes. There is a chasm and we are running out of ways to bridge it. The community leaders of our past won’t be around forever and not enough are stepping-up to refasten the tightrope that we must cross to get from where we are heading to where we need to be going.
I ask all my readers to remember why a community works. Go out on a limb and better someone else. Service above self.
We don’t need to do the tightrope walking: we just need to be there to help hold the lines taught for those who will.