Dear reader, here's another post that I started in April, shortly after the Times Square bomber was apprehended. It's finished now.

 Yogi Berra is purported to have said, " You can observe a lot by just watching."

I've previously written about my commuter experience here. It was a fun post about people watching. Lately I've focused my powers of observation in looking out the grime covered windows at the world that passes by on my way to and from work.

There's an expression that's used often where I work, "At the end of the day..." You might use this where you work.  At the end of my day, I walk into Grand Central Terminal and board my train for the 59 mile journey, where I disembark and drive 10 minutes to my home.

Watching the level of civil discourse between right and left decline over the health care reform debate, I've become aware how my commute passes as a microcosm of 21st Century America. It is neither blue nor red. I would like to take a journey with member of the extreme right and the extreme left have them see the America I see every day. It is our America, and we all have made it that way.

Let me share what I see. As I walk down the ramp to the lower level where my train departs, I pass the members of the military who wear green fatigue uniforms and body armor. There are police officers in abundance, particularly in the wake of the Subway bombings last week in Moscow.

The threats and dangers are real. Grand Central Terminal is likely a real terrorist target. Perhaps the extreme right will see this is the reality that I live with everyday. It is my choice to work in Manhattan. I take the risk. I am a left of center individual for faces the threat of a terrorist attack everyday. The military who stand watch are persons of color and they are men and women who have volunteered to serve. They deserve our admiration and respect.

As I walk down the stairs to Tracks 107 and 108 I can detect the fragrance of "old train smell." While it is similar to "eau de taxi", it is a decades old smell, reeking of under investment in our infrastructure. The 30+ year old commuter railcar may or may not be clean, may or may not have functional HVAC, may or may not have functioning lights.

The commuters I share this car with are literally from all walks of life, male, female, white, not white, rich, middle class, working poor, unemployed, retired and students.

Our journey begins in darkness as we roll through the tunnel beneath Park Avenue. I can't see the homes of the affluent Americans who live in the lavish buildings above. I know that they are there. Their lives are different than mine, but we pass each other without a glance twice a day.

As the train emerges from the tunnel almost 3 miles to the north at 97th street, the demography of this section of Park Avenue is about as different as different can be. Public Housing projects and old apartment houses dot the avenue, with hospitals and business as we approach the first stop on the journey Harlem - 125th Street.

The train stops and picks up passengers. The doors close and we travel north and across the Harlem River into the Bronx.  The Bronx is by far the poorest borough and county in New York City. 

There's the abandoned auto wholsaler and adult club Sin City. We pass series of empty industrial building with "Available" signs posted on them. there are large population of Bronxites who are available too, for work, if there was any. 

The train travels up through the Bronx, into lower Westchester county. Stations signs rush past:

Mount Vernon East -- this used to be the beginning of the burbs, now it looks much like the Bronx, but fewer unoccupied industrial buildings.

Pelham -- a distinct difference as the train crosses the Hutchinson River Parkway. Large well cared for homes dot the landscape. This is the beginning of the burbs now. These are homes of the affluent commuters.

New Rochelle -- As many office buildings and apartment/condos "available" as there are "available" industrial space. This is not the New Rochelle of the Dick Van Dyke show four decades ago, this is a mix of hispanic, black and white and it's hard to tell if its best days are in front of it or behind it. There are two towering condo edifices that seem out of place.

Larchmont, Mamaroneck, Harrison, Rye, Port Chester -- all share the common thread of affluent suburban towns. Some of the office space and even some of the small retail space is surprisingly still "available."

The train pulls crosses the border into Connecticut and stops at Greenwich. The well dressed and well coiffed and well shod depart at this station. If you live in Greenwich, you have arrived. You are in the top 1% of the population in income, and you desperately want/need a tax cut, so the Republicans tell us. Did you look out the window on this journey? Probably not, you were self involved with your Blackberry or iPhone or laptop.

A number of people get on. Not generally as affluent as the ones who got off. At Stamford, several people get off and others get on. As you enter this town, you see the logos of Commerce and Communication. UBS, RBS, Thomson -Reuters are among the businesses that have corporate homes here. There's also "the cove" where the large hispanic population lives that work for those affluent members of Fairfield county who own homes in Greenwich, Darien, and Westport. some of those Hispanic residents are day laborers and undocumented.

The demography of the passengers on the train have changed. Many of the riders are minorities who live in Bridgeport, Connecticut's largest city. The train zips past the affluent communities of Darien, Westport, Green Farms and Southport  at 75 miles per hour.

This lovely homes with water frontage and yachts docked in front of these represents financial success of the Americans who live here. They have great views, great schools, low real estate taxes and high property values. More power to the them. They live in a much different world than the passengers who disembark in Connecticut's largest city.

The train speeds through Fairfield where General Electric Company has its corporate headquarters. GE is like its own mutual fund with a product and services line that runs the gamut from Jet engines to medical devices; from Credit Services to NBC/Universal.

The train slows as we ride past the public housing project that abuts Railroad Avenue. It's a minority neighborhood, that has never seen better days. Bridgeport has seen better days, when GE manufactured home appliances such as blenders, toaster, irons and hair dryers. The expanse of the brick factories lie empty, decaying like much of the rest of America's manufacturing economy. Gone are a whole series of manufacturers, replaced by empty buildings, high crime, high taxes and unemployment, and an occasional terrorist. Bridgeport could be Detroit, or Buffalo, or Hammond, Indiana.

Many of the passengers leave the train here.  There is one stop to go before I get off the train to go home. I would turn to the two people I brought with me on this journey and ask them to consider what they've witnessed for the past 78 minutes on our 59 mile journey.

Is there really that much difference among us now that all three of us have had this common experience? Are we still divided over what's right and wrong with this country? Are we still so far apart we can't talk about this and how we can make this country a better place? Isn't it time to work together, rather than against one another?

I'd pause and let them reflect and wait for them to answer. What do you think they would say?