I had been sitting at the bar in the Chicago airport talking congenially over drinks for 20 minutes or so with a young woman from Berkeley, California. 

She worked in production for a film company, was flying to Burbank and was a total stranger.

“Are you done with your French fries?” I asked as she pushed her plate away.

“Oh, sure” she said, nudging that same plate towards me. “Help yourself.”

The TV was on. She had just finished saying that she was worried about the election and about the terrorist shootings.

“It’s like the world is falling apart,” she lamented.

She was worried about our future, about our country and about feeling unsafe in an unsafe world.

“Pay attention to the world around you,” I told her, “The one you live in.  Don’t pay attention to the one that is translated for you by that,” I said, gesturing towards…