We spent the last week camping in Fredricksburg, Virginia. What I take away most is the way in which we become part of a community. Right out of the gates a roving band of square dancers pulled us into the fold and invited us to their monthly dance. I hesitate to tell this story for reasons that seem obvious. Like, don’t give me a hard time for spending a Saturday night with the square dancers. Some of my favorite folks are square dancers.
What was most endearing was Larry of the Larry Squares (because there were four Larry’s in their group) who invited my kids to watch him cut a rug. The Larry Squares have been meeting since the 1970s. As I watched them do-si-do, I did the math and calculated that they have been dancing together since their 30/40s. Since they had babies. Careers. Pre-retirement. Larry shared pictures of his family, his home and his wife. He dances because it helps with memory. None of their children participate, nor their grand children. And still they promenade. For just one evening we spent time in the company of others who could not be more different than we were, doing something we would not choose to do. And it was lovely.
We meet people every day who grace us with their kindness, advice and humanity. We try to do the same for others. We try to do the same for each other. The more we welcome stories and share our own, the better the experience becomes.
This post was originally published on the travel blog Rambling on a Rural Road.
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