One of the most amazing things about traveling the country in a camper is being able to be home everywhere you go! I’ve written before about how important it is to feel a sense of home and belonging, and I can say that I feel that in this tiny home. So far we have lived in the camper for five months, and taken it to Massachusetts, New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, West Virginia, Virginia, Nebraska, Ohio, Iowa, Utah, South Dakota, Pennsylvania, Colorado, Arizona, and North Carolina.
That’s fifteen states so far.
We have stayed in campgrounds, military bases, many Walmart parking lots, Home Depot parking lots (gotta switch it up sometimes), national parks, federally-owned public lands, breweries, and friends’ front yards (shout-out to Leah at “The Last Resort” in Ithaca).
Most recently, we stayed at a campground that abutted a local high school football field. The marching band rehearsed every morning at 7:00am sharp (with warm ups ahead of time). By the end of our ten days there, Sue had learned the full musical part for the brass section, and I was working on my drumming skills. They didn’t seem interested in letting us join the band, which honestly is their loss!
And when we left there, we stayed for two nights public lands where we were the only people around and didn’t see anyone else the entire time. We did some great stargazing, saw the Milky Way and so many stars we could barely make out the constellations among them.
As I write this post, we are staying at a campground on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, with 200 sites worth of neighbors. Basically, everyone and their mom is here! This is supposed to be “shoulder season” and there are still lots of visitors at the park. While it is great to see the support for these beautiful places, it can also be a little overwhelming.
Now, I am a people person. I love people. Well, I love humanity and believe deeply that humans are genuinely good and loving. But sometimes I have a hard time remembering that in individual interactions and situations.
Sometimes we struggle to be our best and favorite selves in every moment.
Like when we are in a campsite next to Gloria and Jerry from Nebraska who spend every day grilling more sausages than two people could ever possibly consume. Or, when the camper on the other side insists on leaving his bright blue rope lights on all night. This results in lots of light coming through our window shades, and the blue-ish glow beneath their rig that suggests a spaceship is hovering next door.
Perhaps one of my favorites are the many, many people who walk their dogs on 12-foot retractable leashes - allowing them to make their way into our site, cause our dogs to bark, and give us dirty looks. Oh, or the people who just don’t use a leash at all. Every place we’ve been is specific in requiring leashes no longer than 6 feet for all dogs. But, nope, not yours! Your dog is the exception.
I’m sure these people have opinions and reactions to me and my behaviors as well. Who knows, one of them might be blogging about me in this very instant, telling everyone how annoying I am!
I really do love people. And, I really wish people would think about how to be more neighborly and considerate to others along the way.
And, even with all of this, I wouldn’t change any of it. Because, really, we are all just trying to live our lives and experience the natural world in a unique way.
Amidst it all, we have watched elk graze in the grass patches between campsites.
We have watched the sunrise in gorgeous places.
Sometimes we enjoy the creature comforts of home like wifi, water, electricity, and air conditioning.
And others, we spend time away from it all, using the water in our tank and our generator.
We have helped our neighbors pull into their sites, and they’ve helped us. There is a sense of neighborliness, even with complete strangers.
One of the coolest things we’ve been able to do is utilize the Harvest Host program - a way to stay at museums, breweries, wineries, and other attractions with the agreement that you’ll patronize their business. We’ve stayed at a handful of Harvest Hosts - a distillery, breweries, Shenandoah Caverns, and more! At each site we have been able to meet great people, enjoy fabulous food and beer, and get to know the local life a bit more than we would otherwise.
This camper-life is so varied - one night we are parked three feet from our neighbors who are watching Fox News, and the next we are parked on a dusty expanse of land in the Valley of the Gods watching the sunset.
One night Sue is making friends with the Vietnam vet next door, and others we are locking our doors because our neighbors are just a little creepy. Thank you, intuition. And some nights we sleep beneath the angelic glow from the blue Walmart sign in the parking lot.
I guess that’s just how life is. We can’t always choose where we are, or who we are with. We can’t control who our neighbors are, whether we are in a neighborhood or a campground.
But we can remember each other’s humanity, and shared striving toward belonging, and need for community.
We can practice patience and compassion and maintain a place of curiosity about each other and our life’s journey.
I hope that each of us will reflect on our own sense of neighborliness and how we take up space in this world. How are we doing as we journey along with others in this strange, beautiful, and broken world? How can we show up better?
So, whoever you are surrounded with these days, I hope you take a moment for gratitude.
We can always learn something, about others or ourselves, when we consider what it looks like to be a good neighbor - wherever we are.
This week’s Invitation to Deepening: Who are the people in your neighborhood - both literally and figuratively? What have you learned from them about yourself and others?
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