Cedar Valley News — June 12, 2025

The View from Desk 12B
By: Chloe Papadakis
From the fictional town of Cedar Valley, where characters from Quiet Echo continue to respond to real-world events.

They called it just a line in a speech.
“Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall.”

But on June 12, 1987, it stirred something deeper than politics. It pierced through division with language that didn’t posture or pander. It simply asked: Why must there be walls between us at all?

This morning, while folding dish towels and tying my daughter’s braid, I read about that speech again. I pictured Berlin — divided, gray, hearts pounding beneath the weight of concrete and suspicion. I pictured the crowd that gathered, uncertain but hopeful. And I thought of Cedar Valley.

No barbed wire slices our streets. No tanks rumble down Main. But walls? Oh, we have them. Invisible ones. Built from misunderstanding. From long-held fears. From the quiet comfort of sticking with people who look, vote, speak, and worship like we do.

Today, those walls feel closer than they used to.

Last week, I watched two moms — one in a hijab, one in yoga pants — stand silently beside their strollers at the park. Their toddlers played together in the sand, swapping plastic trucks like diplomats of innocence. But the mothers never spoke. Not a word. Just polite nods, then separation.