Lessons Learned in Fly Over Country -- Be a Humane Human
Road to home if home is outside Vandalia, IL.
I’ve spent a lot of time over the past weeks writing about the horses. It seems only right to start my lessons learned posts with some commentary on the people we’ve met along this great trip.
RideOverCountry – I chose the name for this blog very deliberately as an allusion to the snarky term for the center of America as ‘fly over country.’ Kurt and I live on the two coasts, with my home base in Maryland and his in Oregon. And, we actually do spend a fair amount of time flying over this country. Sure, coastal folks like us like to occasionally touchdown in the nation’s center – we ski the Rockies, tour the national parks of the desert Southwest, travel to Austin for the music or Chicago for business. But, we don’t really take a lot of time to experience the small towns and open spaces that make up most of our nation. I suspected that travelling with horses would be very different. Big cities and upscale resort towns don’t often have short-term horse boarding options. Those places tend to be in the small towns that hug the interstates. Hauling horses for weeks means lots of visits to farm stores and truck stops. And finding trails to ride that aren’t full of people means exploring the less known parks, riding logging roads, staying at camps off the typical RV circuit. So, what has this ‘ride over’ travel taught me about my fellow Americans?
1. It’s a huge country but a small world. Colleen -- who has the little horse motel called Notellum Flats in Pendleton -- and I went to the same Catholic primary school in Maryland before life took her to a small town that’s famous for its rodeo. Chris Schrock -- owner of the Global Endurance Training Center in Utah -- and I trekked in India the same summer back in the 1980s. Cookie -- who is watching my horses now in Oregon -- is a fellow Hungarian. If you chat with anyone long enough, you will find some point of common experience.
2. There’s a lot small town folks just do without – a full-service hospital, good cell service, decent shopping options. After Lea from our adventure in IL got home from the hospital (which she reached via helicopter), I wanted to send her flowers. I tried three different national floral services. They each took my order then cancelled it because they couldn’t find a florist close enough to make the delivery. Now, flower delivery isn’t an essential service, but it’s indicative of how you have to be more deliberate to get things done in the country. And, being this deliberate, this planful is tiring. Kind of like how being hyper-aware of your surroundings in the city is tiring.
3. It’s hard to put your hands on a horse every day and not find a reason to smile. And, when you find another person who appreciates these glorious beasts as you do, there is just so much to talk about – from where you’ve ridden to what you’ve broken – that by the time you get to politics, a kinship has formed that inclines you to tolerance.
4. Most people want to have a reason to smile and making them smile feels really good. Every time Juneau put his head out the trailer side door at a gas stop someone would laugh, ask where we were headed, come over to pet him. For that moment, they felt good. And, it gave me great joy to know that I’d played some role in making them feel that way. I want to do more of that. I’m going to be that crazy lady who waves at strangers in traffic, holds doors for men, pays it forward by buying someone their coffee at Starbucks.
None of these lessons learned are really new to me. But, I’d let myself forget how much I really do love people. Things have been so divisive these past few years. Everything has been so hyper-politicized. And, in the process, I know I’ve fallen into the trap of dehumanizing ‘the other side.’
Turn off the TV – whether it’s Fox or MSNBC. Get away from your home base. Find something you love and engage with others that love that thing. Look people in the eye. Smile at strangers. Try to imagine someone else’s day. Be human. Be humane.