To understand this story, realize I, the narrator, am eighty-five years old and look it. The story begins as I was exiting a gas station, having paid for my gas, and coming in were a fourteen year old Muslim girl and her mother. The girl held the door open while her mother entered, and then, looking at me, she smiled and stepped back, holding the door so I could exit. Her mother, wearing a hijab, did not look pleased.
I thanked her, and concluded in my mind that with young people like her, there was great hope for the displaced Muslims in the US and Germany, whom we thought would never change. The younger generation would certainly change to better values, would assimilate in the Judeo-Christian West, and make us all proud we had helped them.
Sure, there’s no certainty of that, but prayers are answered, and I know of some people who are praying for that. This Western Civilization has met adversity before, and conquered.