Paradise amid the poverty

In the interest of full disclosure, let me start by stating that my wife, Nancy, and I returned home last week from a 10-day Caribbean cruise. It was a little bit of heaven, as anyone who has ever escaped from a Wisconsin winter will attest.

Having grown up in southeastern Wisconsin, I never really understood how interminable our winters really are. It all came clear to me about 10 years ago. A good friend from church, a Kentucky native who was living here while studying at the Medical College of Wisconsin, made it oh-so-abundantly clear. I'll never forget Dr. Bob (his nickname) saying in his inimitable southern drawl, "I don't mind a couple months of winter, but it's just that you all have it for so long here." And suddenly it hit me - not everyone suffers through five months of snow, cold, slush and general messiness each year. There are places that have cold weather, but it only lasts a month or two and frozen precipitation is almost an afterthought. How about that?

But that's a topic for another time. Back to the cruise.

As anyone who has cruised the Caribbean knows, you stop at many islands along the way. Most people book an excursion that takes them to a beach, on a sightseeing bus trip, a boat ride or any number of other outings. You pretty much get off the ship, gather into groups, jump onto transportation of some sort and take off.

Here's where the contrast comes in, and if you don't notice it you're either blind, asleep or incredibly cold hearted.

Most of these islands are former European colonies that have been independent nations for maybe three, four or five decades. Their economies are often largely reliant on sugar cane, fishing or tourism. They are Third World countries.

You can't help but notice -as you zip by in your air-conditioned motorcoach - the often-prevalent shacks, huts and lean-tos that house so many of the island residents. "Ramshackle" is an apt description. This is the type of poverty unheard of in America, yet these islands exist just a few hundred miles south of the U.S. It's stunning to see if you aren't prepared. You feel an empathy for these people. You wonder what they do for a living, if they have enough to eat, and what hopes and dreams they hold. If it doesn't make you thankful for the bountiful blessings we have in America, nothing will.

At the end of the day, you reboard the cruise ship and sail off to another island. You hope that the money you spent will help the people living on the island you just left. And once again you give thanks for where you live and all that you have.