Marginalia

I travel a lot. Since it’s for work, the destinations aren’t places I would have chosen from a glossy vacation brochure. They’re ordinary places where people live and work. I have found myself in places like Greenville, MS, Grand Rapids, MI, Houlton ME and Archbold, OH (motto: So Small We Couldn’t Fit the “i” On the Sign). Not your typical airline hubs- reaching some of these places might require the occasional pack mule, kayak or Sherpa. The travel directions for an inn in Houlton offer two options- by car or snowmobile.

Normally a very social person, I find that traveling alone affords me the opportunity to watch and listen more. In restaurants, sidewalk cafes, airports, it’s interesting to observe people. I make notes, scribbling on a pad of paper or a napkin, if that’s all I have. Marginalia. Notes from all over, maybe not all that important in the big scheme, but maybe the big scheme is just the sum total of all the small, everyday things that matter to people. In spite of what the media would have us believe, we have more in common than not. I also like to find way to bridge the differences. But the results are usually not what I planned.

On an early trip to the deep South, seeking an ice breaker to bridge the geography gap, I tried a guessing game. First person to guess where I’m from wins. (My husband had suggested a more direct approach- “you lost, we won, get over it”- but that didn’t seem to be very bridge-building.)  The prize was a fridge magnet shaped like Connecticut that I’d picked up at Bradley Airport.

Fifteen Southern bankers eyeballed me up and down.

“Well,” one drawled, “y’all are a Northerner who talks fast.”  I had already lost serious points by telling them I knew I was a fast talker and encouraging them to flag me if it was speaking too quickly. Someone dryly observed that just because they talked slow didn’t mean they listened slow, ya damn Yankee.

I nodded. “Indiana!” he proclaimed triumphantly. Indiana? Didn’t we just agree I’m a Northerner?

“Ma’am, you’re in Mississippi. Everything’s north of here.” I reminded myself that in the South, being called “ma’am” is not an insult and conceded the point. They went on to rapidly guess all of forty-nine states. All but Connecticut. No winner. When I revealed the answer they shrugged.

Day Two, different class, same results. Started with Indiana, ended when someone ventured into Canada. No winner again. By the third session I’d narrowed down the options to: where I’m from there’s a Nor’easter going on (accompanied by a head toss to the right, and up) and, even though everyone there was in shorts and flip flops, it was still March, and therefore winter, in my home state.

“Indiana!” came the inevitable shout. I threw my hands up in defeat and howled, “Nor’easter! Northeast!”

Someone’s high-school geography brain clicked in. “New England!” He stopped there. Apparently many of our fellow Americans from much bigger states harbor the belief that New England should be a state to eliminate the need to remember its six relatively tiny members. Obviously they’ve never met New Englanders, or been to Maine, for that matter. When I didn’t respond, he went on.

“Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, um…New York, New Jersey, Delaware?”

“You missed one. My state is south of Massachusetts, west of Rhode Island and east of New York…”

Eyes crossed. Finally one person figured it out. “Long Island!”, punctuated with a fist pump.

I finally gave up the correct answer, and was asked what Connecticut might be known for. I mentioned Yale, the New London sub base, that many famous people lived there. Not much impressed them until someone remembered that Martha Stewart had lived in Connecticut. They sighed collectively, as if I shared a state with a saint.

“You know Martha Stewart?” Eyes sparkled. My stock had clearly risen. The damn Yankee knows our Martha.

“Yes, because our state is so small we all live on the same street.” Sarcasm was lost on them and they smiled. 

I decided then and there that our tourism bureau needs to do some serious networking. But I did score three fridge magnets and a tendency to sprinkle “y’alls” into casual conversation.