Before leaving on this trip, friends asked how we planned to start conversations with people we didn’t know. I have never had a problem starting a conversation with a stranger and the one lesson I’ve learned from our first week on the road is that there isn’t going to be enough time in these two months to talk to all the people we meet who are interested in talking with us.
At least so far, we have not directed our conversations into political issues, even indirectly, and that’s just fine. People love to tell their stories and we are happy to listen and before you know connections are discovered.
Here is an example involving Jewish Geography, a game my people play when we meet another M.O.B. (Member of the Tribe). It’s our version of Seven Degrees of Separation. At Taliesin, Frank Lloyd’s Wright’s workshop and home in Spring Green, WI, our tour included 13 strangers. The tour lasted 4 hours, giving all of us ample opportunity to not only find out FLW himself, but also a little about each other.
Two women in our group had first met at a tour of Wright's masterpiece "Falling Water" and have since traveled together to visit many other Wright masterpieces. I fell into step with one of these women as we walked up a long hill to view one of the buildings on the estate. I was drawn to her because of her Southern accent; I find people with Southern accents easy to talk to, and this lovely woman was no exception. Within the first two minutes of our conversation we discovered that (1) We were both Jewish; (2) I had visited the synagogue she had belonged to in Vicksburg, MS; (3) My cousin Len, from Tallulah, LA, had been her high school English teacher; (4) We know a lot of the same New Orleans food people; and (5) She owns a signed copy of my book that she got more than 25 years ago. This chance meeting with Deborah, who now lives in Atlanta, reminded me once again how conversation can lead to discovery and discovery can lead to new friendships.
Lora and Deborah at Taliesin
Cooking With Memories
The next example happened in Sioux Falls, SD. Facing a long drive to our next stop, Custer State Park, we got up early and asked Siri where to find a good cup of coffee. She sent us to Josiah’s Coffeehouse and Café JosiahsCoffee where we thanked the fellow serving us for getting up early so we could have a good start on our 6-hour drive. He asked where we had come from and where we were headed. La Crosse, WI to Custer National Park in the far western reaches of South Dakota, we told him. I asked if he was from South Dakota. He was, he said, but he had spent time in Chicago and Washington DC before moving back. I said that our youngest son and his wife had just moved from DC to the Boston area (which made both us and them extremely happy). Because I just can’t resist bragging I offered that my daughter-in-law had worked at the White House under Obama. That got a smile from our server, who was Josiah’s owner Steve Hildebrand. He revealed that he had been the deputy national campaign director of Obama’s 2008 presidential campaign.
As another example I want to tell you about the conversation we had with Wayne, an older gentleman in a cowboy hat who stood with us admiring the stunning vista. (How many roadside rest stops can boast one of those?) As far as the eye could see were gently undulating fields, a vast patchwork quilt of golds and greens.
“Do you come from here?” I asked, which is the equivalent of "nice pie" when there’s no pie in sight. Thirty minutes later we knew that Wayne had, for 35 years, owned a dairy farm not far from here. I can’t remember the acreage or the number of cows, but both were large. He talked about what it was like to run the farm during the winter when he had to plow out pastures so the cows could have time out of the barn. He talked about getting a diagnosis of colon cancer and his long treatment. When he was on the mend he told his wife he never wanted to milk another cow. They sold the farm and he took a job working in a factory that builds the combines he had spent his adult life using on the farm. “I hated that,” he told us. So, then he took up driving an 18-wheeler, delivering milk for other dairy farmers. He talked about his wife, a schoolteacher, who was looking forward to spending winters in warmer climes. So was he, he admitted. We told him that the best part of our trip has been hearing the stories of people, like him, that we met on the way. He said he’d like to keep in touch and follow us via our blog.
Yet another example. We met two Indian (as in sub-continent) couples in a vista pull off in the Black Hills National Forest. One of the women was wearing a Red Sox cap, which is an easier way for me to start a conversation with a stranger than "nice pie." They were from outside Boston, traveling from here to Yellowstone. Her husband said that he had done this trip after graduate school and that it's now (slightly) easier to do the trip as a vegetarian. He volunteered that he was a Jain https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jainism . In turn, we astonished him by saying that we had climbed the 3,750 steps up (and 3,750 steps down) of Palitana, one of the most sacred Jain temples in all of India. They asked for the blog information so that could follow us on our trip.
Palitana
And a final example occurred at breakfast at the State Game Lodge in Custer State Park. I asked our lively Jamaican hostess if she had family back home that were impacted by the never ending hurricanes. Her family was fine, she said, and then she asked where we came from. Long story short, Terrie from Jamaica had worked for several summers in Provincetown and lived right around the corner from us. We know the people she worked with and have frequented the places where she’d hung out. It was old home week for us in the middle of the busy dining room. Now we’re friends on Facebook.
As my new friend Deborah and I parted at Taliesin she wished me ‘Shana Tova.’ When we were making plans for this trip I understood that carving out two months away from home in the fall meant we would be away from our family for the Jewish High Holidays. This isn’t, of course, the first or probably the last time this will happen, but still, as I look around this crowded dining room in Custer State Park, South Dakota, I feel a bit sad and lonely for the company of other Jews this Rosh Hashanah. David understands, but I don’t think he shares quite my longing for the company of our children and grandchildren, a round challah and apples to dip in honey on this particular day. At least when Yom Kippur comes we will get to break the fast in Saint Helena with our dear friends Stan and Ada who are as close as family.