Tag Archives: travel

Microcosm

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Very often, in inclement weather, total strangers will gather together and share shelter in order to protect themselves. There might be some small talk about the conditions, but under any other circumstance, odds are they wouldn’t find themselves engaging with one another. I found this same psychology exists when there is a bus trip underway.

My vacations often involve bus trips. I appreciate someone else doing the driving and the door-to-door service makes touring relevantly easy. I recently returned from a trip and found the experience provided other observations beyond the group mentality. The bus company that I utilize has started to assign seats. I usually travel alone and have the good fortune to be able to spread out. This time I brought a crochet project and was happy to be able to have use of both seats. It is the luck of the draw who you find yourself sitting by as well as how far back your seat might be located on the bus. Soon the passengers will find some commonality and groups will form.

This particular trip was one that I had planned for an extended period of time. I saved my money and didn’t complain about having to pay the single occupancy rate. I feel having a hotel room to myself an enjoyable benefit. We were scheduled to set out on the morning of Black Friday. My brother graciously cooked for Thanksgiving so there was no hindrance in my preparation. My packed bags were placed by the front door as I crawled into bed that night. I set the alarm for 6:00 a.m. and felt I would have plenty of time to reach the bus by 7:45.

The next morning there was no startling noise to rouse me out of bed. I glanced at my clock and realized it was 8:00 a.m. The trip host had tried to reach me by phone. Her message said they could only wait another five minutes. I found I was in a state of shock. I returned the call, being as gracious as I could, although heavy with disappointment. I couldn’t reach the host directly. Shortly after, the phone rang again and I was asked if I was familiar with a location, far removed from my original pick-up spot. The bus was stopping for breakfast at a buffet and I was asked if I could meet them there within the hour. I loaded the car and drove through a total of four states to meet them. I managed to do it within forty-five minutes. I missed breakfast but wouldn’t miss the trip.

There was a certain amount of notoriety I gained as a result of my unique way of meeting the bus. Once I was onboard and settled, I realized I left my hearing aids and charger, along with my phone charger, sitting on the kitchen counter. I could live without my hearing aids but the thought of having no access to communication and pictures was troublesome. I soon learned who my people would be. The couple sitting in the seats in front of me lent me their charger. I charged my phone during the day on the bus and retuned the cable to them so they could charge their ear plugs overnight.

Although I looked forward to this trip with great anticipation, I found it was fraught with frustration. I have a chronic illness and I have learned to work with the limitations that it presents. For some reason those issues didn’t appear to me or translate to the challenges that would be present while traveling. I found, due to my limitations, that I would miss half of the planned events. Very often I found I was on my own as the group moved ahead through the scheduled tours. Not to miss any opportunities, I spoke with many of the locals and found the conversations enjoyable in their own right. My condition is not well known and even misunderstood by several in the medical field. Not only did the couple who sat in front of me lend me their charger but they provided understanding. They had their own personal connection with my condition. Although I didn’t keep them from any of the tours, it was clear they were watching out for me. One evening I fell and suddenly those who I was not familiar with came to my aid. Within the week the circle of my people expanded. I didn’t have to look long or hard for someone to sit with at breakfast or share a spot at dinner.

The microcosm of the bus trip and all the passengers showed itself, once more, to be true. Those in attendance shared details of their lives quickly and without hesitancy as the time together would be fleeting. As the tourists took their last steps off the bus it was understood that it would be the last time this group would be together. We would return to our own communities and our long time group of friends who had to learn who we are over time. As travelers, we have no friends in common and if stories were shared later, they wouldn’t appear to be personal. Like those who might gather together to shelter from a storm, we have all moved on. Although there was such cohesion for a week, the shared conversations, tours and meals will be relegated to history. Every so often, there might be a story about a traveler whose passage through four states was needed to meet the bus. In reality, I might be the only one who continues to tell that tale and not one that I would want to repeat.

Kinfolk

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My brothers and I are transplants. Our mother’s side of the family came from the Philadelphia area, first emigrated from Italy. My father was from South Georgia. We were transplanted as a result of his Navy career. Growing up just south of the Mason Dixon line, it was easier to see family on our maternal side and we also had the added benefit of having our maternal grandfather live with us. That offered us a built in connection. My father’s side seemed so distant as it was more difficult to maintain that connection. I have shared before that at the age of ten I first read To Kill a Mockingbird. It portrayed the era that my father was raised and I thought reading it was imperative to understanding my southern roots. I will also admit that Gone with the Wind gave me a very inaccurate picture of the environment where my father was raised. He had shared that he grew up on the Colton plantation. What I had envisioned was far removed from the dark brown framed humble abode which was the reality.

With my retirement quickly approaching, I had planned a trip to Savannah, Georgia, as a gift to myself. There was no familial connection to the area yet it was front and center on my bucket list. In conversations with my Georgian cousin we came up with a plan to visit Savannah and then spend time together becoming reacquainted as family. I won’t go into details but that plan was abandoned and I spent my week with family enjoying a long overdue visit. My cousin and I hadn’t seen each other face to face since we were young but our connection has become strong in adulthood. I felt totally comfortable with accepting her offer which embodied perfect southern hospitality. I still have plans to visit Savannah but I thought it was more important to delve deeper into my family’s history.

What did I take away with me? I was already familiar with the red clay and the abundance of pines. Here in the north, we are fortunate not to fall victim to kudzu. This invasive vine can be seen everywhere, as it takes over hills, valleys and fields. The only plus I could grasp was the sea of green it created. Not every neighborhood has a wandering goat but my cousin’s does and I found it delightful. For the first time in my life, I tried boiled peanuts. That might be the last time they cross my palate as I think it takes a considerable amount of time to get use to the texture. I gave all the other southern fare a big thumbs up! Tender baby back ribs and the boiled shrimp was most enjoyable. I learned to appreciate many of the foods as a child since my father introduced it to us as part of our smorgasbord menu growing up. Good fried okra and pimento cheese is not considered a staple here, north of the Mason Dixon line, but I was grateful to find an abundance there. My cousin made a point to expand my sweet tooth and I found buttermilk and chess pies to be a wonderful dessert added as a delicious finish to a meal. It is amazing that we found so much time to talk, and catch up, when she spent so much time in the kitchen, cooking items to expand my horizons and waistline. We have talked about future trips and I hold out for the addition of peach cobbler and corn dogs the next time I am there.

Obviously I enjoyed my time visiting, eating and sightseeing. What I found more gratifying was the opportunity to meet my cousin’s grown children and her grandchildren, her husband and his siblings. It was important to me to understand what I had missed by not growing up there and fill in many blanks, as well as rehash family stories and histories. The last time I made a trip to Georgia I was able to visit with two of my aunts. They have since transitioned and I considered my brief time with them a gift. One expects the loss of their parents, and my aunts’ deaths, although mourned, didn’t come as a shock. What I do find unsettling is the loss of six of my Georgian cousins since my last visit. Little by little, I see time slipping away but I don’t want my southern roots going too. This visit has me reflect on the questions I wished I had asked earlier. In retrospect, I can’t make up for lost time, but I can change the future. Conversations and visits will continue and if they include fried okra and brewed tea, all the better.

Lost

Featured

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I was looking forward to the day. It would be the last time I would be meeting with this group of colleagues. I wasn’t concerned about the drive that would take one hour and a half. Our agency is spread over several locations and I was used to driving. Virtual meetings have increased greatly since COVID made them a necessity and I now gladly accept the opportunity to meet face to face as it has become the exception rather than the norm. My clothes were set out and my lunch was packed the night before. I was set.

The morning came and I was ready to leave as I took one last look at myself in the mirror. How did I not notice that something had bled on my blouse in a previous wash? It was much too noticeable at that time and I scrambled to decide what to wear. It put me a little bit behind but not by much as I had given myself an extra half hour for travel. Translated: I gave myself time to access the drive thru at Dunkin Donuts and treat myself to the companionship of coffee and a donut on the trip. Once my purchase was made I put my coordinates in my phone and was ready to let GPS take control. It had been well over a year since I drove to this location and it was not committed to memory. I soon learned my phone was offline and there was no cajoling it to bring up the appropriate directions. I pulled out the cell phone provided from work and realized I couldn’t come up with the correct password. One attempt warned me that it would take five minutes before I could try again. Subsequent attempts pushed the time limit set for new efforts further out by fifteen minutes each. All of a sudden I felt I was trying to climb a mountain of shifting sand. It was the previous day that a conversation led me to state that I could read a map, but who carries them in their car anymore, even though my car doesn’t come equipped with GPS? If it wasn’t my last time, meeting with this team, I would have decided to change my plans and drive to my office. It didn’t seem like much of a choice as I enjoy the company of these people and knew I had to make the trip.

It was time for an executive decision. I would return home, a ten minute drive, and access maps on my laptop and go old school. I reached out to my manager to share my situation and that most likely I would be late, but eventually would be there to join them. I texted my son, who happens to be an IT guru, and asked for his input. This is a good time to let you know that my printer at home didn’t work and I jotted down the directions. I thought at the time it was enough to jog my memory and ensure me a successful drive to the location. I was wrong.

It is difficult to read directions when you are on a road whose speed limit is over 50 mph. I inadvertently turned down a road that was evidently incorrect. I believe the route number was correct but I couldn’t locate the connecting road. I was deep in God’s country. I never realized how many orchards there are in the area. Again, reaching out to my son by text, he suggested that I find a fast food business that would allow me to use their Wi-Fi and get back on track. I had to let him know that there was nothing like that for miles. I was in a location that remained untouched by progress for decades. He tried texting me directions with the sketchy information I was providing him. I was beginning to feel a bit frantic.

It was at this point that I noticed that the programed oldies station had dissipated and a Christian station had taken its place. I was not familiar with the songs but I didn’t need to be. It was the nudge I needed to fall back on the well-known: Jesus is my copilot. Additionally, I realized that I had a sign from my late sister in law. It made me laugh. I don’t know if I really trusted her directions in life and wasn’t sure if I was safe doing it in death. I pictured her in the passenger seat. It seemed so natural as I happen to be driving her former car. With these observations I made others. I was driving through some beautiful countryside. It was a gorgeous day with a bright blue sky and my gas tank was full. The backdrop was a luscious green from the vast amount of rain we had received and colorful beds of flowers could be found in every direction. I located a road whose name was familiar. Thank goodness I enjoy Civil War history as I recognized the road, knowing it would take me to the battlefield. I could easily find my way to the office once I had made it to this neighboring town.

When I reached the office, it was much later than I anticipated. I had missed a good portion of the business but it didn’t matter. I made a grand entrance with a joyful countenance. I had a story to tell and a lesson learned. Although I was physically alone in the car, I didn’t feel like I was driving solo. It took me a little longer than I would have liked but the realization that prayer is always an important option calmed me. Although I am still not sure I would trust directions from my sister in law, it was a pleasant reminder that the love continues once someone has transitioned to the other side. My son will always be my life line and I will think of him as my greatest blessing for so many reasons. I continue to trust that I am where I am supposed to be, when I am supposed to be there, regardless of my plans. As I enter a new stage in life, I am reminded I am not alone. There might be some unexpected detours along the way but I will reach my destination. I need to acknowledge that I have support, appreciate the scenery and enjoy the ride.