What a funny song to play ... especially here.
It's about homelessness in America and the utter callousness of how people can be when confronting it. We pretend to not see them. We don't hear them. We just keep believing we're in Paradise by ignoring the poverty surrounding us.
Of course there is poverty here too. In the midst of 37 spectacular beaches are half-finished concrete block buildings where sheets serve as doors and yards are littered with trash. Junk cars serve as housing. People sleep in bushes near the ocean. Just another day in Paradise indeed!
Sprinkled around the island are gated resorts and hotels serving serving up protected slices of sanitized Paradise. Cruise ships dock just off shore disgorging thousands of day visitors who are whisked passed the poverty to the best beaches, bars and restaurants. The visitors to Paradise have it significantly better than the permanent residents.
Of course there is a middle. There are lots of hard working people on the island, living in better homes with flat screen televisions, driving SUV's. Some are dear friends who have showed me island life in ways I would have never discovered alone. Most work in the resorts or the shops catering to tourists. There's are the best offices with a view you can possibly imagine.
After 30 years of working with homeless people I do not romanticize poverty. It sucks!
I don't romanticize Paradise either. The United States has as many warts and self-inflicted wounds as does St. Martin.
I've had my fair share of bad in my life but those aren't the things I choose to focus on. I remember them but I don't dwell on them. I choose the good over the bad; the happy over the sad; laughter over the tears. Regardless of where I'm at, I do my best to find the Paradise. Given the opportunity I try to help others find their's too.
Because all of us could use another day in Paradise.
