This Exeter Life: Speaking Tradition

There’s nothing like being away to make you appreciate being home.

I just returned from a camping trip in Acadia National Park in Maine. We stayed at the Mount Desert Campground, a place where families occupy the same campsites for multiple generations and campers stay for weeks at a time, establishing their own little settlements in the woods.

Typically, I find camping to be a very community-oriented experience. There always seems to be a sense that the people camped next to you or those you meet along the trail are kindred spirits, members of the same outdoor community. Friendly silent waves to your neighbor, a smile as you pass someone in the bathroom, or a good morning on the way back from the water spigot are the norm.

 But here’s the thing: very little of that happened to me on this trip. I waved, I smiled, I said hello and I got nothing in return. Apparently, very few of these campers understood the unwritten rules. And I can’t lie. It took something away from the experience.

I went to Washington and Lee University for my undergrad. For those not familiar, this venerable academic institution located in southwestern Virginia holds tightly to a set of values and traditions not found on many other campuses. While there were a lot of social traditions for a girl from New England to rebel against (like dressing up for football games) one of the things I most valued was the speaking tradition. Simply put, it was the belief that every person on campus was a member of your community and as such deserved your respect and acknowledgement when you crossed paths.

The speaking tradition superseded an almost caste-like social hierarchy that the Greek social system perpetuated. Whether passing on a sidewalk, holding a door for someone behind you or walking into a room where someone else sat, you always—always—communicated in some way. A quick hello, a smile, a nod, it didn’t matter. The point was to acknowledge your shared membership in a human community.

Without even realizing it, I took this practice with me out into the broader world. Depending on where I've lived, the speaking tradition has been practiced to varying degrees and thinking about it now, my connection to those places was probably influenced by my interaction (or lack of) with other members of the community. Spending a week away among campers not trained in the delicate art of basic civility and human connectedness has made me realize what a joy it is to live in Exeter. On my first day back in town, as I was cheerfully greeted by everyone I walked past, it was clear to me that the speaking tradition is alive and well in our little New England town. Who says southerners have a lock on friendliness?

Returning a wave this morning from my neighbor, whose name I have never learned but who enthusiastically greets me on each of her brisk dog walks, I noticed how these brief acknowledgements make me feel anchored, like I have a place in the world and in this community.

Thanks everyone for carrying on the speaking tradition. It sure is nice to be home.