It's Gonna Work Out

After having such a wonderful experience in Joplin, the next day was not so exciting or wonderful. Just one bad situation after another. I finally pulled into Ozark, AR nervous but eager to get another city checked off the list. The first place I pulled into was a 66 gas station. I half expected to hear, "You ain't from round these parts." It was the constant you don't look like you belong here looks that made me shy away from asking too many people about my survey.
"I'm traveling doing a survey of communities and happiness across America and I randomly chose your city. Do you have a couple minutes to answer just a few questions? It would help me out a lot!"
"No."

That was the response I would get if I did manage to make eye contact with someone, or if someone would smile at me in response. I moved from place to place all with no luck. In the end, I sat eating really horrible, I mean awful, Mexican food place hoping I could ask people there. Instead, I ended up forking over 8 dollars for a vegetarian quesadilla (the cheapest real food on the menu)that tasted like cardboard. And still no luck. Ok, fine, I decided to sit in my car and try to think of where to go next. I called hostels in New Orleans to stay the next night and all the hostels without bug infestations were booked. So I knew I didn't want to go there yet but it was the next stop on my list.

The people in the car next to me had locked their keys in the car and since I was right there, I offered to take them to get a spare as they were really freaking out about it. "No, thanks." they responded bluntly to my offer. Wow--even people needing HELP wouldn't talk to me. I decided with frustration to head to Hope, Arkansas. Already was it getting dark. By 9 PM, the highway I was taking to get there turned windy, pitch black, and cut off all cell reception. Bad idea. I turned around deciding to get a motel room and rest up for the next.

Bad idea again. It was haunted. I won't get into too much for sounding like a crazy person but it was terrifying. I've experience two different haunted places before but nothing with this overpowering evil.

Now it was 1 AM, I was exhausted, and still had no direction. I was too tired to be chosey about my parking lot so I chose Second Baptist Church (hehe) in Conway. The next morning, I sat down to drink coffee at Starbucks and everything opened up from there. The Starbucks was filled with lovely people who were all willing to help me fill out surveys and just be friendly and kind. I had such a good time there!! One of the employees offered me a place to stay with her. At first I wasn't going to take her up on the offer because I wanted to be on the road. The more I thought about it, though, the more I thought it would be a good idea and I'm glad I did. Nicole is a beautiful, generous person who did not have much to give but was willing to share so much. It's incredible how when you feel like you have no direction to go (mine was more literal), and everything goes wrong and you start to despair. Then, everything goes right all at once. Suddenly all those puzzle pieces come together and you start to feel kinda silly for going nuts over something that was working out all along. It was wonderful to be mutually inspiring to one another.

Now, I'm in Columbus, Mississippi heading east to do another set of interviews in Reform, Alabama. Again, nervous but eager to get another city checked off my list. Here's to meeting good people willing to help me.

Hope in Rubble

On May 22nd, 2011, Joplin, MO was hit by a massive EF-5 tornado. With winds surpassing 250 mph and the twister reaching one mile long, this destructive force of nature wiped out half the city of Joplin within a very short time. Now 3 months later, the city is still in need of a lot of help. Although the majority of clean up has been done, the task ahead to rebuild seems a little daunting.

(The back of what's left of Joplin High School)

I was at the Americorps office at a little after 7 AM, gross, and quickly was paired up with a volunteer Lutheran church group from Dubuque, Iowa. Sometimes it seems like the media portrays Christians and just a bunch of hypocritical and judgmental bible-thumpers and it's easy to start believing this stereotype. However, all the volunteers and volunteer groups outside of Americorps and the Red Cross were all Protestants or Catholics, whether going solo or in a small group. I honestly was surprised by this. Without knowing who I was or anything about my history, this group of short term 'missionaries' took me under their wing with the hospitality of the Good Samaritan. They gave me a place to stay, giving up their own bed, bought me dinner, and sent me away with little care package items.

The girls of the group decided to spend the second half of the day out of the sun doing data entry. The whole morning we were lifting cinder blocks, chimney bricks, dry wall, 2x6s--whatever was left of a demolished house. The heat index was over 100 and we were all covered from head to toe in dirt and sweat. I decided to finish the manual labor with the men and I'm sure glad I did. The original owner of the house had come by during our lunch to pick up a piece of pipe: a souvenir of the work he had spent in putting the house together. Now he was standing over a barren lot with only a few bits and pieces of insulation and porcelain. I can't imagine the grief. At 76 years old, he isn't the healthiest men, he explained, so that's why he had been unable to do the clean up himself. He teared up when he pointed out where they put the Christmas tree during the holidays. He talked about how his kids and his grandkids and great grandchildren had been raised in this house of love and how how broken he was that it was all gone.

However, he didn't break down until he talked about how *grateful* he was. "I'm just gonna have cry, I'm sorry. God's love..." He stopped to wipe away his tears, "I'm just so lucky. God is so GOOD to me. This is just a house. But he changed me. My heart. God is good." More tears followed.

A man who had lost the house he had spent decades in all in the matter of a few minutes, could not contain the tears because of the hope he found in God.

I'm not retelling this story to try to preach and demand conversion to whatever branch of Protestant Christianity this man was a member of. I even debating retelling this story due to that reason exactly. But this man's joy, despite obvious pain, was too incredible not to share. An evangelical Christian in Joplin was the first person to ask me why I had religion in my survey of happiness. It seemed like he wanted to add in why you should be Christian in one of his sermons. I said honestly: It doesn't matter what religion you are. As long as you are faithful to that religion, you will love longer and happier. Why?

Hope changes everything. Therefore, live in hope!

Segregation

Oklahoma does not live up to all its stereotypes. I have now been east to west, north to south and not once did I consider it to be flat and dry. Ok, so it was a little dry...and more than a little dry as it's the worst drought for them in decades. The east side of the state has gentle rolling hills, trees, and creeks. The grass on the side of the highway despite this is a peaceful deep green, tall, and waves wistfully in the constant winds. Although I know the dangers of ticks and the insects of all kinds in this part of the country, it's the kind of grass that makes you want to run til you can't run anymore and collapse in its comfort to gaze at the clouds passing by overhead.

The people of Oklahoma are neither loud, blunt, or outspoken but they are unspeakably hospitable. It's not the kind of hospitality and openness that reminds you of the chubby southern mother who calls you sugar, tells you what's on her mind, and feeds you in one meal than you would normally eat in a week. In contrast the the stormy and dramatic weather the state receives, the kindness and openness is calm. The more I travel, the more I am finding good people and communities much happier than my own. Almost every night, I've come across people willing to give up their own place to sleep so I would have a more comfortable residence for a night. On top of this, I've only paid for dinner once since I left.

It was on my way to Joplin that I stopped at a gas station in Enid, OK to fill up. Another thing I love about this state is that they have several gas stations that openly advertise the lack of ethanol in their gasoline. (which means more mileage on less for me!) I had even turned out to be on my way to Joplin when I got the feeling to go back. I couldn't shake that feeling and made a U-Turn.

That's where I met Donthan, a big teddy bear of a man from outside Jackson, Mississippi. I asked him and his young son to fill out my survey after the gas stations attendants readily talked to me. He and I got to talking about southern culture and the more we talked, the more he openly explained the racial issues in the south.

When he compared buying a new truck in Oklahoma City as compared to trying to buy one in Jackson, I teared up and almost cried right there. His eyes lit up with the excitement of a kid getting his first bike telling me about how he was able to buy this truck he drives now new. This was something he could never do back in Mississippi. They would find excuse after excuse for not selling him the car he wanted. Nor would they even ask WHAT he wanted! All they would say is "You look like you want this car" and bring over the dirtiest, oldest truck they had.

Can you imagine? Really, what it would like to be in a world that shakes their heads back and forth in denial of racism, yet turns around and refuses to sell you a car when you have the funds and income to do so? I could tell this man had a beautiful soul from the moment our eyes me and he introduced himself, giving my hand a confident yet soft handshake.

It was the kind of conversation that leaves you wanting to hug a tearful goodbye. Instead, we politely shook hands with big smiles on our faces and went our separate ways.

Now, the adventures that awaited in Joplin and more amazing people that made me tear up and want to hug them will wait til the next entry.

Rock Inn Cafe

To say I surveyed the residents of Seymour, TX would be an incorrect statement. One could say that yes, I did try to get a random sample of people but unfortunately as it turns out, it is more difficult to get people to answer a few questions on happiness than to get them to take free light bulbs. Both seem to be relatively easy to have people cooperate with in theory but unfortunately it is not the case.

That was, until I decided to get a coffee at the Rock Inn Cafe. Nominated in the top 40 small town diners in the entire state of Texas, this place has some pretty good food. And to make it better, some pretty nice employees and patrons. I was feeling quite defeated with my attempt to get people to stop and talk to me in front of a shell station at 11 AM. I wondered how the heck can so many small town people have important places to be ASAP at 11 AM on a Sunday morning? The diner was bustling with customers and I sat down next to a man who could tell immediately I was a weary traveler. After we got to talking, he nudged me in the right direction of people to interview and offered me tips on how to get strangers to respond to me. The waitress was your stereotypical no-nonsense small town server, and even more so in the fact that she finally opened up and talked to me after I had an "in" with one of the locals. She kindly asked her regulars to participate in my study as well. Even the owner's son, after laughing about what a city girl I really am, offered me anything on the menu for free (I chose the delicious onion rings though they are famous for their chicken fried steak.) Scott, the man who I interviewed first, didn't head on his way until he had first given me a hug and added my coffee to his bill.

It was really shocking and amazing to how cold everyone seemed to be from the outside until they became the most hospitable and friendly people I have met. I was ready to write off friendly small town America as a myth and huff back to a bigger city to ask my questions. Turns out, you have to know just one person. Then you're family. I would have had two offers for places to stay and to tag along in a hunting trip if the timing was right but unfortunately, I can't afford to drag this trip on. So it was east to Wichita Falls to meet an old friend and then north the Oklahoma City. I am in serious need of a shower, to cool off, and to have a restful nights sleep. The location I chose last night was not a wise one and I fell into fitful sleep with a knife by my side. I'm going to avoid that for tonight! Until next time

First Interview Set

I knew even before I pulled onto the dusty main street of Earlimart, California, that I had entered a different culture of California, forgotten in the glamorized portrayals of Hollywood and so very different. Off Highway 99, I saw billboards picturing decently attractive middle-aged white men advertizing water-saving solutions for the farms they owned. Just a few paces later, were signs with tired Mexican women standing in front of fruit trees, with explanations in Spanish of benefits from the government about getting enough rest and water during their work days.

Main street of a town of 3,800 is nothing to write home about: A gas station cleverly named "Earli-Mart," services for pregnant women and young children, and a liquor store. Definitely no In-n-out, Starbucks, or Jamba Juice anywhere close. Every sign is in Spanish. I looked down at my freshly printed out questionnaires and suddenly realized that my English was too complicated. Unfazed, I pulled out some pens and clipboards and pulled over.

The nice thing about being blonde is that no Latino will ever ignore me. Immediately I had several young farmers offering their assistance in my project! The only problem is that of all the people I interviewed in this town, only two of them were able to fill out the questionnaire in English but even that was extremely limited. The majority of people did not use social networking, and the more English they spoke, the more they seemed to be involved in websites like Facebook. I asked young women to retired men and almost every one of them was at least a little suspicious when it came to the question of "Are you from Earlimart? If not where are you from? Does your family live here, too?"

All in all, because I was shy about speaking Spanish with too many people, I was not able to interview as many people as I would have liked but it was still data. Unfortunately, due to a couple interviewees complaining of gang problems in the town, I did not want to go door to door either. I am hoping that my next town will give me some good data! The next set won't be until I drop off the truck in San Antonio. It will be good to have some time to rethink strategies and get the courage to go up to strangers and talk to them again.

Til then!!

List of Cities

Here's the link of a map I created with all the cities I'll be visiting. No, I hadn't heard of 90% of these places before, either!


View Happiness Ahead Project in a larger map

I leave in 6 days. Oh boy. I am not emotionally, academically, or financially ready to leave in 6 days. Doesn't this sort of stuff usually all come together at the last minute...?

...Doesn't it...?

1973 Volkwagon Beetle vs 1998 Toyota Corolla

About a dozen people when I tell them about my trip have asked me, "So, are you taking the bug?"

I laugh until I realize they are asking this in all seriousness. To give you some background, I purchased a '73 Beetle at a great price in October. This is my dream car and I love this car more than anything.

Unfortunately, it doesn't love me back.

In the matter of two weeks, it tried to kill me three times: Once by trying to get me run over by a semi, another time breaking down on the i-90 bridge, and another time tried to gas me out while I was driving down a busy road (I was able to roll down the window and keep conscious).

And people honestly have asked me if I'm going to take this car on a 15,000 mile trip?! Do I have a death wish?! I don't want to be alone in the desert with this vehicle, where I'm miles from civilization and no one can hear my cries for help. No, I will not be at the bug's mercy.

The 1998 Toyota Corolla has loved me and been there for me even when I threatened to sell it. It's trudged through blazing deserts, mud in the prairies, and got me safely through several mountain blizzards. It tries its very best and has only gotten stuck twice: once in Saskatchewan miles and miles from any city (it's really my fault), and once when I was driving too fast during a snow storm.

She puts her very heart in soul in keeping me safe despite the crazy places I take her. I have passed out comfortably for 14 hours straight in her warm arms, carried a carload of hippy hitch hikers, and been across the US and Canada 5 times. She's got 240,000 miles on her and hasn't complained once. My baby Corolla, God willing, will get me through this last, longest trip yet, before she retires.