Talk to Strangers II: Indianapolis

Cynthia grew up in Indianapolis and except for a year she spent in Africa, she’s pretty much never left the state.  Her story is typical in some ways and unique in others. Cynthia was married to a man from Botswana just before 9/11 making it impossible for them to be together. The Rwanda conflict and Homeland security keeps her husband in Africa. Cynthia’s devotion to her mother keeps her in the states. Her home is a testament to her husband and her hope to someday join him.

            Cynthia was my next host and she’s the reason why I’ve decided to stay with strangers during my journey. Not only is she gracious, but also she was very open and emotional about the guests she has welcomed with open arms into her home, guests from Korea, China, Italy, France, Germany, all over the United States, England and Australia. Tears came to her eyes as she told me, “I am poor. There’s no way I could even dream of traveling to these countries. By accepting folks into my home, to break bread at my table, to our share stories and, briefly, share our lives, I am traveling in a sense. I am lifted beyond these walls.”

            But those walls she refers to hold a lot of love. Her friend Jerry is one of most vivacious people I have ever met. My friends tease me all the time about my dreaming, so I could easily keep up with Jerry, matching her dream for dream; we both love the idea of living in intentional community. The joy is that Jerry appreciates the dreams of others. When Cynthia expressed a desired to explore her ancestry, she bought her an online membership to allow her to easily research. When she knew her good friend had a desire to travel she suggest the Couchsurfing website. Both of these changed Cynthia’s life in a profound way. And mine as well.

            My heart if full with the generosity of strangers who are strangers no more. Thank you Cynthia and Jerry!

Jerry and I driving around Indianapolis

Searching for Grandmothers

I stood on the grave of two great grandmothers. It was as though I had found long lost family, which I had. Katherine (Katie) Whalen, my grandmother’s mother on my father's side, died  too young in 1908. Katie is kneeling on the far right of the above photo. There isn’t a record of death and there aren’t any family stories. My grandmother Charlotte (Chotsie) made a pilgrimage around 1968 to Ireland where Katie’s parents were born, maybe to discover some stories.  She traveled alone and I always thought this was incredibly daring, but I wasn’t surprised. Chotsie was a dynamic woman and the story is that she was the first female to wear pants in the little town of Greencastle Indiana.

            It took time to find the gravesite of Lucy Webb Hoover, my 3^rd great grandmother on my mother’s side. I had to put coordinates into my GPS to find the little pioneer graveyard in rural Indiana. And then I stood on her grave and said “Hello Lucy”. The name is a beloved one in our family and now I know it’s been passed down, skipping generations, to become my niece’s. My great grandmother was a pioneer, having moved from then developed Philadelphia to the territory of Indiana before it was a state. I sat on her grave, gently making a rubbing of the stone that will soon be unreadable.

            I’ve always loved cemeteries – they are peaceful parks filled with stories – though I’ve never liked the idea of graveyards, to use the land in such a way. I want to be placed in a remote area where I can easily be turned back into the earth. No embalming. No grave stone. But now I wonder, who would tell my story if I’m not marked in some way? Who would find me hundreds of years later and stand on my grave saying, “I am here. I am you and you are me. Hello Cathy.”

Talk to Strangers I: Milwaukee

Couchsurfing.com is one of the recent community websites offering free housing to travelers. Sounding like something I would do in the 70s, it’s a brilliant way to meet people who live in the city you’re traveling through to find housing for the night, free of charge. It has safety features for those who pay attention with the ability to filter. I always start by searching for women over 40 (with apologies to my beautiful, young pals), and look for folks who have been “vouched” for and have a number of references. It’s required that your profile includes a description of the bed offered (Any shared space? Privacy? Available bathroom?), occupation of host, other family members, places they’ve traveled and more. People who abuse the system – hitting on someone is an excellent example – gets them reported and removed. I’ve had a number of delightful couchsurfers stay at my home and now it’s my turn to travel.

            Jean is my first host and at the risk of sounding gushy she was the best! Ok. There’s no comparison yet, but she certainly sets the bar high and was a delightful start to my adventures. She’s a professor at Marquette University in Milwaukee WI and an avid traveler. She’s also a Unitarian Universalist (small world) and liberal in a not-at-all-liberal city and state. She gave me a marvelous tour of Milwaukee and we shared a dinner together. Thank you Jean! I fully expect that we will continue to develop a friendship and my hope is to someday visit her in Italy after she moves there to be with her sweetie!

            One of my good friends said to me before I left, “Talk to strangers”! What a brilliant piece of advice. Traveling alone can be, well, lonely. Because of the kindness and good company of strangers I am seeing even more of the world, through the eyes of others.

The Aurora Farm I

I love this photo! The people in it look happy and ... like family. It was taken over 100 years ago on a farm in Aurora Ohio. My grandmother, the little girl in the front with bows in her hair, would visit it with her mother - my great grandmother - Katie Whalen Chance. I don't know everyone in the photo, but I do know that Aunt Meg Smith is the adorable woman in the back right in the middle with the smile on her face. I discovered her through a family album and there are several photos of her.

During the next month I hope to discover more about the people in this photo and maybe find the farm, if it still exists. Katie Whalen is a bit of a mystery. As far as I can figure she died fairly soon after this photo was taken. My imagination has me looking at her closely; she's kneeling down on the far right. Her eyes look sunken and there's a handkerchief in her hand.

So come with me, as we discover together who these people are and how they fit into the story of my life!