Before I wax poetic about the contrast of life depicted at a state park….
Check out my television interview on the show GROWING BOLDER.
The Growing Bolder team did an amazing job highlighting the peaks and valleys of my health, career shift, and Millicent journeys. I also answered the question why I had a leaky roof. Thank you, Amy Sweezey. (Follow Growing Bolder for more stories about amazing people who are growing bolder as they age.)
Now for my blog post…..
If you need renewed faith in humanity…get thee to a state park.
Since the beginning of the Millicent van trip, the majority of the time I have stayed at bucolic farms nestled in the countryside. This act has reconnected me with the country roots of my childhood. But after twenty-five years in Atlanta, Georgia my city slicker persona can still shine through. I can’t hide it for very long. The locals narrow their eyes and state, “You’re not from around here are you.” It’s said inquisitively, it’s not a question.
One cool afternoon in Delaware, Millicent lumbered into a state park on the ocean.
My jaw dropped to see the rows and rows of neatly parked RVs.
It looked like a summertime garden of metal and swoosh graphics.
I had selected the state park because I once again needed to dump Millicent’s black water tank and the previous farms wouldn’t stand for that on their property. Can you blame them? (I have found that the black water tank from the toilet and sinks groans to be dumped far more than I thought it would. I’ve had a revelation that there is a correlation between using it and dumping it…..ohhh!)
At the state park when I backed Millicent into camp spot #23, I put on my city slicker vision and surveyed each of my RV neighbors as if they were possible threats. I then double locked my bike to the picnic table and wondered aloud if someone would cut the chain with bolt cutters.
I felt ashamed and refreshed to see that every other camper left all their valuable goods strewn within arms reach to use with ease.
No locks, no chains, no ropes.
The entire property was blanketed with trust and care.
The next morning, I awoke to watch the sunrise and I unlocked my bike for the early morning ride to the ocean. There were dozens and dozens of bikes laying on the ground nearby as if they too were sleeping to ready for a day of hard play.
No locks, no chains.
Campers were sleeping with the screen doors wide open.
No locks, no ropes.
The morning fog wrapped around me as I biked to the coast.
In stark contrast to the RV park, I passed the haunting silhouette of Fort Miles, a World War II defense encampment hidden amongst the dunes. I shivered as the ancient artillery seemed to point directly at me.
What a strange and startling contrast to the trustworthy campers just a few leagues behind me.
How can our world be so hateful and so beautiful in the same breath?
As I was considering this question, a golden deer nibbled on the brush only ten feet from where I had stopped to take in the sweeping view. The deer didn’t seem to notice me or the heavy artillery. Just like the RVers, she too was infused with trust and a relaxed confidence.
So, when you need renewed faith in humanity…get thee to a state park.
See you soon as I round the bend to the next 25 states.
Christiane Palpant
To see my latest paintings of each state, click HERE. Do you have a favorite?
