Day 3

In Sikeston, Missouri, sitting in bed listening to the faint hum of trucks on the highway.

Before I arrived, I read a review of the man who works here, Sam. The reviewer said he was happy and friendly.

Sam was SO happy and friendly; very sweet face and smile.

We chatted. He admired my Oliver trailer. “Very nice trailer you got there.” I told him about Bob, and how he always liked the best. How we had traveled for many years. How he died and I decided to go out on my own. I could feel the grief rise up from my chest into my eyes.

He told me about how he was divorced after 40 years of marriage. A shadow of sadness rolled over him. He decided to go out on the road after that and wound up here. He’s been here for four years.

“Life sure has many unexpected turns” I say.

“Yes it sure does” he says. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be here until 7:00.”

So kind.

I would love to take a picture of him and post it here, but I’m afraid to ask people if I can take their picture. It seems like we’re all on edge.

I have no idea who this man really is, where he came from, what he believes.  I have no idea what he would think of me if he knew where I came from or what I believe.

In a short encounter like the one we had, we can feel so kindly toward one another. But if we shared more, who knows where it would go. If he asked me where I am from, and I told him Chicago, he might say “Oh, then you must be a liberal.” Or “Wow, sure is scary up there, isn’t it? Terrible terrible, thank goodness President Trump is cleaning things up.”

I would freeze and my mind would instantly put him in a box. If I told him Chicago was largely safe and peaceful, that Trump has waged war on us and made things much worse,  he would put me in a box.

Now, on the other hand, he might say “Really? I am from Chicago.” And then we’d be off and running comparing notes on where we grew up, etc and feeling all friendly towards one another. 

It is pretty amazing the way we sum people up, decide who they are. We decide “they are good” or “they are bad” without really knowing them.

I am tired of being put in a box, and tired of putting people in boxes, and I want to stop. But that means having conversations that are difficult, that call on me to tolerate the intense feelings that come up. It means me taking a different stance toward people. It means making myself listen. It means being truly curious, and believing that they have something to offer me, to teach me. It means being open to learning and open to changing my perspective.

I have had many conversations like that; it isn’t easy. It feels like a gargantuan feat to manage my emotions and stay open, but it is always fruitful. I learn things. I learn things I don’t want to learn. Like, I don’t really know everything and I don’t have all the answers. Like, I have largely been in a bubble and make assumptions with so so so little information. Like, that I’m not the only one that is scared and trying to find a worldview that makes me comfortable. Like, that I am as much a product of my upbringing as other people are. How can I expect people to think like me when they didn’t get brought up where I was brought up and weren’t told the things I was told? And, if I want people to understand me, don’t I have to try to understand them? 

Ok, I’ll stop. But I just want to say, this is why I love, or maybe need to be on the road. Coming into contact with people, if I stay curious and don’t immediately shut the door on them, it helps me grow. I don’t want to stay in my box. It’s lonely in there. 

Oh, by the way, I fixed my toilet without having to buy what I now know is called a flush ball seal.  Reading the trailer manual can be so helpful! 

And a word about time. I have been noticing that I am always rushed. It is part of my internal nature. I have made a commitment to myself not feel driven by some imaginary agenda I don’t need to have. So, interestingly, I tried to change my little clock next to my bed when the time changed. The knob wouldn’t turn the hands. I tried fixing it this morning. I was so proud of my attempt, but in the end I made it worse. I made the hands fall off and couldn’t put them back on. Kinda nice to not have that clock yelling at me to get moving.

Also, and on a similar note, today I am setting out without an RV park reservation. I always have a reservation. It makes me feel secure. But today I am just going. Not sure how long I’ll go, or where I’ll stop. It makes me nervous, but I’m doing it anyway. Trying to trust…

Sending love to y’all.