One Woman's View: Where, if anywhere, are people different?
Contributing writer
Edwin Markham wrote a little poem I have always liked in spite of its being rather heavy-handed in pointing a moral. A wise man sitting near a city gate was asked by a traveler what kind of people lived there. The wise one responded with a question of his own, asking what kind of people there had been where he came from. "Knaves and fools," answered the traveler.
"You'll find the people here the same," said the wise man.
Soon another traveler happened along with the same question, which the wise man countered the same way. This traveler replied, "Good, true, and wise."
"You'll find the people here the same," the wise man said.
When it comes to judging others, it is true that we often find what we look for. However, I recently learned that even negative expectations can be overcome with enough contrary evidence.
Last month I celebrated my 65th birthday with a "once-in-a-lifetime" adventure and flew to Washington, D.C., to spend a week seeing all that the capital city has to offer. Being directionally challenged, I was a little apprehensive about getting lost. Having spent my entire life in small towns (some really smaller than small), I labored under the preconception that people in a large city were likely to be cold and unfriendly. Wrong1
As expected, I often did not know how to get to my destination and even had trouble reading the maps posted in every subway car and metro station. However, I soon learned I could walk up to any stranger on the street or the subway and ask directions. They were always willing and eager to help. Often they entered into a conversation, making suggestions about what I should not miss seeing. One lady even gave me a little guidebook she had with her, which had its own map of the metro system. Before he got off the train, a journalist gave me his card. I'm not sure what he expected me to do with it, but I thought it was a friendly gesture.
Some of my friends seemed to think I was venturing into the crime capital of the universe. I felt quite safe the whole time I was there. Of course, I was in the parts of the city which attract tourists, and there was a lot of visible security. If I went out in the evening, my host was with me. I suppose there are unsafe parts of town, but I never felt threatened. Even the homeless people were not at all threatening, only pathetic. Surprisingly, none of them even asked me for money.
Congressman Jerry Moran's office arranged several tours for me, and the guides were very helpful and friendly. So were the other people on the tours. On the National Park Service tour, I fell in with two young men from Scotland, who treated me like an aged aunt. Since I managed to fall getting into the van, I guess they felt I needed looking after.
The trip was a huge thrill. Highlights included tours of the National Cathedral, the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, the monuments and memorials, and Mount Vernon. I spent odd bits of time browsing in the Smithsonian museums and the national Gallery of Art. Of course, there was time to see only a little of the museums and galleries, but I enjoyed every minute. Since inwardly I'm a very young 65, I spent most of my birthday at the zoo. It was a delight to watch the baby gorillas at play.
On Sunday I attended Christ Church in Alexandria, Va., where both George Washington and Robert E. Lee worshipped. Except for improvements like electricity, I doubt it had changed much since Washington's time. The pews were the old kind with partitions and doors. A chandelier with candles in it still hung from the balcony. There were graves in the churchyard, including at least one of a veteran of the American Revolution. I felt a peaceful connection with history there.
The Holocaust Museum was very moving, if also depressing. It was intentionally stark. One "attraction" was a boxcar like the ones in which the Nazis' victims were transported to the death camps. I particularly liked the fact that attention was paid to all the Holocaust victims, not only the Jews. The only exhibit which actually brought tears to my eyes was a violin which had belonged to a Roma (gypsy) musician executed by the Nazis. It lay on the seat of a wagon, as if he had just laid it down and walked away.
In the unlikely event that any of my readers want to hear more about my vacation, make an appointment. I won't bore you with more details right now, except for an incident on the afternoon before I came home.
The mall was always full of pigeons. People eating popcorn or a sandwich in the open air were usually accosted by the little beggars. After the art gallery closed, I was sitting on the steps waiting for my host to pick me up. A car pulled up across the street and was instantly smothered in pigeons. When the driver got out, he also was immediately covered in pigeons. Although I was used to the birds hanging around nearby waiting for handouts, I was a little surprised at their boldness.
The driver walked around to the back of his car, opened his trunk and began throwing out bird food. He sat on the rear of his car for a while and played with the pigeons. Some were so tame that they would take a grain from between his lips. When I got bold enough to go across and talk to him, I discovered he actually had names for some of his favorites.
When I asked the man whether he represented any group or just took on the feeding project himself, he replied, "I do it because I care." Big city people cold and unfriendly? Not on your life.
