Playgrounds

It occurred to me today as I was walking back from celebrating Mass with our students, across the hill that separates St. Regis and O'Hara, that playgrounds are made up of hardscabble dirt and random weeds that somehow manage to hang tenuously on to life and that these playgrounds are the same whether one is playing soccer in a barrio of south L.A. or basketball in Zimbabwe. It reminded me again of the commonality that we share with all people. Children play. In Africa, In Latin America, In Europe, In North America.