DELIBERATELY DIVERSE | by Leslie Hunt
DeliberatelyDiverse represents the individual thoughts and opinions of a group of Taylor friends who almost never completely agree about anything, but are gratified by the opportunity to stimulate deliberately diverse discussions. Today’s column represents the thoughts and opinions of Leslie Hunt NOT the Taylor Press.
Just over two years ago, my husband and I landed in Taylor to start a new shared chapter. Our only child, a son, had graduated from high school and moved on to college and new adventures, as had his classmates. We said goodbye to families we’d known for the better part of his young life and anticipated new friends and opportunities in this smaller town a bit further northeast of our former home.
Our previous neighborhood in Round Rock was everything parents could hope for.
We’d moved there from Austin for the great public school system.
In this sheltered suburban world of our past, kids thrived and often excelled. Moms were around for PTA, playdates and homework help. Dads made it home from Dell in time for dinner and weekend swim meets.
By the time I’d hit 53, I figured I had enough under my belt to easily adjust to life in a different town.
Thing is, Taylor wasn’t, and will never be, just a different town. Considering what we had to learn, my husband and I may as well have moved to a different star system.
You can visit Taylor and see what the area looks like. You can meet folks from Taylor and pick up on the sense of community pride and general kindness so many carry around with them. You can even learn about the history of Taylor and how the town itself has transformed against the backdrop of each evolving era. I didn’t really know Taylor, though, until I closed my mouth and started listening.
Taylor’s story is unique and evolving, and you’ll get a slightly, or hugely, different version from each resident you ask. It’s our diverse, but always worthy, experiences here that lead us to cast differing players for heroes and villains. The best of times for certain families have been the absolute pits for their neighbors. Some are born into families owning real estate and knowing easy leadership, while others acknowledge chronic histories of disappointment, marginalization and struggle. Every version of the story matters.
Two years later, I’m blessed to know versions of Taylor’s story from neighbors of all colors and persuasions, differing religious and political ideologies, a wide range of ages and traditional and nontraditional genders and sexual orientations.
Some are well-heeled, too many others are homeless and hungry.
There are divisions and selflessness, joy and pain, resentment and forgiveness.
No matter how the plot changes, I’ve observed that the gist of Taylor’s story remains the same from Carlos G. Parker Boulevard to the southeast side. Despite the differences between neighbors, there’s a tie that binds us. We all want prosperity, safety and opportunity. We just don’t always agree on how to get there.
In time, I pray Taylor’s citizens will recognize a community where all know respect and value, and we can mend collective, historical pain and resentments, and move forward together.
Until then, let’s just start learning how to talk again. That’s when the story gets really good.
