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Searching for America
by Patti L. Auber, published June 2014
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I have just returned from a vacation of a lifetime—literally. This trip was my gift to myself upon my retirement from my traditional job. It was something I had long dreamed of—30 days on the road to see as much of America as I could manage, and to do it sans interstate highways. We covered 19 states and over 8,000 miles. As much as possible, I stuck to secondary roads through small towns. I didn’t necessarily visit all the well-known touristy destinations, although I did see some. Mostly I looked for interesting places off the beaten path, and sought out interesting people who were creating their own definition of success in America. This month I’d like to tell you about some of them.
There was the man in Hardy, Arkansas who owned a small dulcimer shop, where he built and sold his instruments. We pulled up on front of his shop early one morning, pretty sure that it was too early for the shop to be open, but when we tried the door, it was unlocked. He came out from the back and expressed his surprise at having customers at that time. He told us about the dulcimers he makes (in case you don’t know, dear reader, a dulcimer is a stringed instrument that derives from the Appalachian mountains, and is commonly used to play folk music), and about groups that he enjoys jamming with. His shop was full of beautiful instruments of fine woods. It was a pleasure just to handle them. He was a man confident of being in the right place in his world.
There was Barb, a potter we met in a small gallery in Manitou Springs, Colorado. She offered her wares at this artists’ cooperative, and put in time minding the shop. She told us all about the works offered by other artists, and didn’t even mention her own until I asked her. Her shelves were full of beautiful earth tones and jewel colors, with a fine smooth glaze. Her hands were strong and smooth, and she spoke softly but with assurance.
There was Troy, a man we met by chance in Scenic, South Dakota, in an abandoned town at the intersection of Nowhere and Nothing. He approached us, attracted by our Ohio license plate. He was from Wooster, Ohio, less than an hour from where we live. Troy was enjoying a second career as a guide for a tour company. He spent five or six months every year in the Badlands area of South Dakota, running small, personalized tours. He knew everybody, and knew more about the area than I’m sure many locals did. He was loving his life.
There was Kelly, cousin of my travel companion on this journey. She lives in Newport, Washington, a single parent of a grown son who owns a bar and restaurant in town. She also has a powerful voice, and sings at the bar from time to time. Kelly’s place, called Rudy Marmo’s, was warm and inviting. Kelly had boundless enthusiasm for what she was doing, and has plans that will take her beyond her business interests in Washington before the summer is over. Her energy made me tired!
Finally, there was Amy, a young woman of Russian extraction who is living in a small religious community in Fort Garland, Colorado. The community runs a Trading Post with just about anything you can imagine, including Native American crafts, antiques, hand crafted soaps and lotions, souvenirs, and a parrot that will talk to you (but don’t get too close—he bites!) Amy taught herself to play the violin. Taught herself! We noticed an old dulcimer for sale at the Trading Post. My friend picked it up and began to play it. The community gathered around. With some urging, Amy brought out her violin, and the dulcimer and violin created the language that transcends all boundaries—music. Because Amy was willing to share her music with us, we ended up staying there for more than an hour.
All these people have one thing in common. They crafted their own life. They found what they loved and made it work for them. Perhaps there would be some who would not regard them as successful because they are not rich or famous, but they would be wrong. These people found and achieved their purpose for being in this world. There is no greater success. I know my life is richer for having crossed paths with them.
Perhaps you can tell, dear reader, that most important to me, on this trip of my lifetime, was the chance to meet people like the ones I’ve told you about. More meaningful than seeing Mount Rushmore (which we did visit) or the Grand Canyon (which we didn’t). There were so many others we met along the way as well—too many to mention here. But they all made an impact on me, and I am changed from the experience.
There are so many ways of being in this world. Perhaps as many ways as there are people. We each need to find our own, and define our life by it. That will be our greatest success—living our purpose.
There was the man in Hardy, Arkansas who owned a small dulcimer shop, where he built and sold his instruments. We pulled up on front of his shop early one morning, pretty sure that it was too early for the shop to be open, but when we tried the door, it was unlocked. He came out from the back and expressed his surprise at having customers at that time. He told us about the dulcimers he makes (in case you don’t know, dear reader, a dulcimer is a stringed instrument that derives from the Appalachian mountains, and is commonly used to play folk music), and about groups that he enjoys jamming with. His shop was full of beautiful instruments of fine woods. It was a pleasure just to handle them. He was a man confident of being in the right place in his world.
There was Barb, a potter we met in a small gallery in Manitou Springs, Colorado. She offered her wares at this artists’ cooperative, and put in time minding the shop. She told us all about the works offered by other artists, and didn’t even mention her own until I asked her. Her shelves were full of beautiful earth tones and jewel colors, with a fine smooth glaze. Her hands were strong and smooth, and she spoke softly but with assurance.
There was Troy, a man we met by chance in Scenic, South Dakota, in an abandoned town at the intersection of Nowhere and Nothing. He approached us, attracted by our Ohio license plate. He was from Wooster, Ohio, less than an hour from where we live. Troy was enjoying a second career as a guide for a tour company. He spent five or six months every year in the Badlands area of South Dakota, running small, personalized tours. He knew everybody, and knew more about the area than I’m sure many locals did. He was loving his life.
There was Kelly, cousin of my travel companion on this journey. She lives in Newport, Washington, a single parent of a grown son who owns a bar and restaurant in town. She also has a powerful voice, and sings at the bar from time to time. Kelly’s place, called Rudy Marmo’s, was warm and inviting. Kelly had boundless enthusiasm for what she was doing, and has plans that will take her beyond her business interests in Washington before the summer is over. Her energy made me tired!
Finally, there was Amy, a young woman of Russian extraction who is living in a small religious community in Fort Garland, Colorado. The community runs a Trading Post with just about anything you can imagine, including Native American crafts, antiques, hand crafted soaps and lotions, souvenirs, and a parrot that will talk to you (but don’t get too close—he bites!) Amy taught herself to play the violin. Taught herself! We noticed an old dulcimer for sale at the Trading Post. My friend picked it up and began to play it. The community gathered around. With some urging, Amy brought out her violin, and the dulcimer and violin created the language that transcends all boundaries—music. Because Amy was willing to share her music with us, we ended up staying there for more than an hour.
All these people have one thing in common. They crafted their own life. They found what they loved and made it work for them. Perhaps there would be some who would not regard them as successful because they are not rich or famous, but they would be wrong. These people found and achieved their purpose for being in this world. There is no greater success. I know my life is richer for having crossed paths with them.
Perhaps you can tell, dear reader, that most important to me, on this trip of my lifetime, was the chance to meet people like the ones I’ve told you about. More meaningful than seeing Mount Rushmore (which we did visit) or the Grand Canyon (which we didn’t). There were so many others we met along the way as well—too many to mention here. But they all made an impact on me, and I am changed from the experience.
There are so many ways of being in this world. Perhaps as many ways as there are people. We each need to find our own, and define our life by it. That will be our greatest success—living our purpose.