Mom and dad, grandma and grandpa cheer them on. The Prairie Path, kind of a main street of Wheaton in the summer, is filled with walkers, joggers and bicycle riders, and nearly everyone nods hello as they pass. Life seems good here in Wheaton as you go around the city. Lawns are weed-free. And except for mine, cars are clean and shiny.
People are happy.
In middle-class suburbia here in America life offers more opportunities for happiness for more people than probably any other time or place in the history of the world. We all don't have a Lexus or Mercedes or BMW, but even for those of us with Honda Civics or Ford Escorts life is good. At least it seems to be, or ought to be. On the outside, everything seems to be happy and good and contented. On the inside though, especially inside the person, perhaps all or nearly all those people walking their dogs, mowing their lawns, or whatever, everything is not just right.