Excuse me, I feel the need to get up on my two foot
cajon, I mean soapbox, for a second and moralize.
With all my focus on the physical and mental pain I experienced during the Death March I may have forgotten to mention that It was one of the best times of my life. This was for many reasons, of course. Yes, there's quite a thrill in it all.
But damn, I also learned a whole lot from the whole trip. Take for example, the being the recipient of goodwill aspect of my hitchhiking adventure:
The other day at a Friend’s gathering (as in Quaker) I listened to a discussion on the old classic, lending a helping hand to people in need.
Pretty simple message, yes? I’m sure you’ve all heard some form of the ‘treat others as you would like to be treated’ rule, and I’m guessing many people are familiar with Jesus’ Good Samaritan story—you know the one in which a beat up man is helped by the non-Jewish, disliked Samaritan.
The Friend's ultimate message seemed to be both that it’s important to get out into the community and start putting Jesus's community oriented teachings into practice and it's important to reach out to those who look, think and act differently as well.
You could be cynical and dismiss the story as a children’s parable taught by adults to help Americans ‘get along’. You could be too trusting and consider it to be the only way to live.
Me? I wanted to laugh when the Friends mentioned their ‘sermon’ topic of the day. It felt so relevant to what I had been through, and something I did not have to think about much. My world has been expanded to the point that I don't usually second guess talking to a bum, offering a ride to a stranger, trying to reach out to someone with ideological differences.
Did the Quakers mean crazy hitchhiking youth? Did they mean bums? Have they ever been on the other side of the divide—the side of needing the help?
These friends had stories to tell of their own involvement in lending a helping hand. A pensive man mentioned buying a birthday present for a neighborhood child after he overheard her complaining that she didn’t receive any. A couple of different people got up and talked about providing holiday baskets to local families. A woman mentioned giving a ride to school to a boy who had slipped on some ice.
A young 20 something girl, in a statement very close to my heart, described how in her travels abroad she had always received care from strangers and felt welcomed. Yup—those poorer countries where people have less, well, they tend to be less afraid and more giving. I remember a traveling friend in Nepal saying to me, “People in Nepal have less but they give so much more.”
Well, it’s not always true, but it does have a certain familiar ring. And it made me think back to all the charity I had received, often times from less than upstanding citizens. A kindness that is unforgettable. But yet, people might frown upon the givers of that kindness.
Which reminds me that there’s a lesson in my travels besides ‘get a real job kids,’ and ‘appreciate what you have even if it’s not much because it sucks to have less’. At the least, there’s some insight into the nature of community and altruism and human nature and all that stuff.
In my months hitchhiking I received so much help and kindness from strangers and people I wouldn’t normally have associated with, or spent time with, or gotten to know. I mean, how else would I have met Gregg from Pennsylvania? Or, from a story I haven’t gotten to yet, ex-hippy hicks in North Carolina that besides feeding me recorded some of my band’s music. And then there was the kid in Fredericksburg who made me tacos, and the kid in Annapolis who drove me to Washington D.C., and even Dan and Dave and the crazy punk kids really helped me out because it was raining and sleeping outside would have been a pain in the ass.
At the very least, hitchhiking is an instant icebreaker. Busking is even better for that. “Hey, I noticed that you play music on the streets. I’m guessing you like DIY art and putting yourself through a lot of pain for minimal reward…”
Beyond that, it makes me feel connected to a greater community. I mean, that’s the thing about traveling. People put aside different background and ideological differences to connect with each other because they know a traveler is out of their element. It doesn’t matter that I probably will never see most of the people I met again. It doesn’t matter that I may not have been friends with them if I had encountered them in my home town. It’s just the idea that they were willing to give me the benefit of the doubt and just straight up be friendly.
It’s more than that. I’ve felt that traveling in Asia before, or the Middle East, or with friends around the United States. But the added element of poverty, combined with the strong will to go somewhere, to play music, to be successful in this endeavor (yes, there is such a thing as busking success, I’m getting there), means for the first time I was willing to trust people to a degree I never had before. Odd people. Different looking people. Different ideology people. People who were not always upstanding citizens.
Good Samaritans in our society?
I mean, this is all anecdotal, but I'll tell you most of the people who helped me out didn't have money in that upper middle class sense, and often not even in a middle class sense. And many of the people I met who were on the poorer side were very gregarious.
Some people see as a potential downfall. I disagree. I mean, brain still races when I'm in an unknown situation. I'm uber-careful of every chance I take.
And all this goodwill makes me want to turn around and extend goodwill. When I found hitchhikers in a Bay Area Wal-Mart I at least tried to help. And when a woman started loudly yelling “Dammit, they towed my car,” I offered her a ride, which she denied but accepted a joint (she must have been 50-it made me smile-thank you Santa Cruz).
Though, believe me I'm no saint. And I don't always trust the world, or the people in it.
But being bold enough to accept help has made me bold enough to approach strangers to talk, to offer help, to listen. It's put me in a better place. It's made me more honest--even if whatever it is I’m doing in my life seems like a failing to some people. More often than not when I simply asked people for help and told them the story, straight up honest, their amusement and confusion would lead them to help me out. I appreciate other people's honesty too. Try not to judge.
And me interacting with strangers means we both gain something. The world get's smaller, I learn a bit and give them company in exchange for some help, some money (as in on the streets), some fun (damn, I wish I had approached more buskers when I was bored going out in college) and some inspiration for people who feel stuck or anxious. I feel like I have a better grasp on social interactions and what people want from interacting with you.
Hey, sometimes it's like traveling abroad. Especially in the South where people can have very different ideological backgrounds.
Well, alright, that's enough. Message barely touched upon. It’s hard to explain, fully, how something can change your life and it’s hard to know how things that ‘change your life’ last in the long run.
But despite the doubt about the strength of my character, I can always say, “Hey, at least I got a story out of it.”
