Reform

I uploaded pictures to the post from New Orleans but this annoying updater would not listen to my html alignment adjustments.

Once I headed south, Mississippi turned out to be a completely different world. Within just hours of being on a side highway, I saw a woman towing a crate meant for 2-3 goats with 10-15 goats shoved in, a 7 year old boy driving a Ford pick-up, lots of old houses with porch swings, and a suspicious crowded gathering of angry looking white people at an unmarked business that had no windows and a heavy boarded up door. Ooh, boy, the deep south. However, once I actually started visiting around, the culture shock abated.

The next morning I went to mass in Mississippi then to do some interviews in Reform, Alabama. Finding people on a Sunday proved to be a difficult task. And although no one was right out angry or rude, everyone seemed suspicious of this stranger. I decided to eat lunch where people suggested: The Place. This was my first meal of fried catfish and hush puppies. DELICIOUS.

Dangerous stuff because I could have easily eaten the whole meal in one sitting but for financial reasons, I decided to save it.

I had all the interviews I thought I was going to get and headed further south. Before I left town, to my right, I saw a Catholic church. Mass started at 4 PM, I looked at the clock in my car: 3:56. Well, dang it, too much of a coincidence so I made a U-turn and headed in. This is by far the smallest Catholic church I have EVER seen. There were maybe 20 to 30 parishioners crammed in a tiny chapel. Unfazed, the priest bellowed out the liturgy in a voice that could have filled a cathedral. After the 35 minute service, he introduced me to the parish and they welcomed me with genuine enthusiasm. The Smiths, an active couple in the church, invited me to stay the night at their 1000 acre ranch outside town. How could I say no? I am just amazed by the wonderful and generous people that have come across my path. They had awesome stories to tell and wise words to share.

One of the most interesting things I found was when we were checking out a house they had just purchased. Doing the job I do, I visit LOTS of houses, ranging to 110 years old to only a few months. This was a pretty typical 1920's structure. In the back, though, behind the porch was a well.
"This was because the house was built before electricity and plumbing." She explained.
I was confused, "Wasn't this house built in the 1920's?"
"Yes, that was before the south was wired." I thought about the northwest, where I had never visited a house that had a well in the back, despite being in residences much older.

At the end of the civil war, the South was left destitute. Reconstruction put the nail in the coffin. It's all written plainly in text books, but it was incredible to see the other side of the story firsthand. Northerners will commonly have a stereotype of the ignorant, uneducated, Yankee-hating south. After spending time in small towns here, where I had to do verbal interviews with old men due to a high illiteracy rate, I completely understand that mentality. I talked with a couple from Hot Springs, AR. "Oh, ok, I was going to go there! Is that Hot Springs Village?" "No," They vehemently and quickly retorted, "That's where the Yankees live....no offense. They use all their North money and buy retirement homes there." In one of the counties I did interviews, there is a 10 percent illiteracy rate. 10 PERCENT. Among older African Americans, the percentage is considerably higher. Poverty is commonplace.

I knew America was going to be diverse, but I did not dream I would experience such a wide variety of cultures to this extent. It's easy to think, well, this is my country. I know my own homeland--after all, I'm American! If only I had enough time to tell the backgrounds of all the people I've interviewed or just chatted with along the way. I'm so grateful to have this opportunity to broaden my worldview in my own country.

Today will be a day of rest to check out the beaches in Florida and get some more miles under my belt. Life is rough. Til next time!

The Big Easy

New Orleans has never been on my list of must-visit cities (and if you know me at all, I have an extremely extensive list). When a dart landed on this town, I thought, well, this should be interesting. A young girl traveling alone out of a car to a city where many people warned me along the way "Don't stay there, it's a dangerous place."

And for a moment, when I got off the exit to stop by a Catholic church, I thought maybe they were right. I was surrounded by sketchy people. To the left, a drunk was being arrested and to the right, at the police station, an unguarded inmate in an orange jumper sat on the steps smoking a cigarette. Even the church was normally gated off by tall, metal spires. I caught the closing blessing of mass and headed to the graveyard behind the chapel. Obviously burying the dead underground in a bayou is not a great idea so all the graves of centuries past are in massive concrete tombs. There is something mystical and strangely peaceful about being just inches away from the ancestors of an old city.

When I was finished getting used to the extra heat, I decided to head to the French Quarter. This was by far the most open and easy-going city I've been to so far. Yesterday when I was in Newton, MS, a town of a population probably not much more than one or two thousand, I was kicked out of a Piggly Wiggly for disturbing the employees. Because in a town that size their work is just THAT crazy. I wasn't sure what to expect from Who Dat as this was the first place on my list with a population of more than 40,000. However, people were so laid back I was even able to stop people on the streets, all types of employees in stores, taxi drives, human statues, palm readers, everyone. I even did a verbal interview while a man walked around the French Quarter hat shopping. Despite the heat so overwhelming it was oppressive, the residents seemed genuinely content and relaxed.

Unfortunately even though I am driving straight towards Hurricane Irene's path, I decided it would probably be a bad idea to get a hurricane at Pat O'Brien's. I did, however, sip on a mint julep while listening to a live jazz band in a garden. The architecture is very reminiscent of Buenos Aires in its strong French influences. Compact, colorful, and old. Absolutely beautiful.

There's only a few cities I've ever been to that have made me want to stay and none of them have been major metros like New Orleans. However, this lively, chill, mixing pot of a city won my heart over within minutes of my arrival.

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!!