I had my finger on the button to take the 113th black and white of Devil’s Tower, when I heard a bossy voice say, “Here… give me your camera. I’ll get a shot of you and your kids.”
The universe holds a special place for total strangers who offer to take photos of single parents and their kids. Imagine shoe boxes filled with photos of sticky marshmallow faces, consecutive years of Christmas present openings, and the first days of school with the ghost of a parent appearing in only one out of every 43 pictures.
I look kindly on anyone who offers to snap a picture of the three of us.
Except this time.
I got a vibe before I turned to look at the woman standing behind me. When I turned around, I saw a spry, short, loudly talking woman. She was thin, wiry, and had the leg muscles of someone who does a lot of walking — angrily.
When the three of us stood together for the photo, she barked orders about where we should stand and how we should smile.
She acted the way someone might if they knew us — no pretenses, lots of orders, little consideration for niceties or politeness. In her family, she plays the part of the well-meaning relative who thinks she knows what’s best for everyone. She was curt, direct and cold. She hadn’t smiled in the last 40 of her 59 years.
I got my camera back. We said, “Thank you,” and quickly walked away, exchanging a glance between the three of us that said, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
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At the next bend, she pounced on us as if she’d been laying in wait. I looked to see if she was with anyone. No such luck. She started spewing her life history. Her voice sounded like squealing air that frantically escapes from a balloon that wriggled free from 5-year-old fingers. The three of us stood there — deer in the headlights — trying to think of how to get out of the trap.
Her story went something like this:
So… I’m on a spiritual quest. I got divorced a lot of years ago from a real jerk. I’m heading cross country to see my grandkids — only seen the 6 year old twice. But first I have some stops to make. No hurry to get there, ya know. Hey, those things there are prayer cloths. You know that, right. The Indians believe in nature and saying prayers and putting up cloths. I’m part Indian. I hate Christians. Look what Christianity did to Indians. Want an apple? I’m a vegetarian, ya know. Don’t eat meat. Meat stinks. Stay on the path, K? Don’t want to disturb nature. Hey, we have to do our part. Here… use my binoculars. You don’t want to use my binoculars? What? My binoculars aren’t good enough for you? To each his own, I guess. Don’t you hate what White Man has done to this planet. Here, look at my medicine bag. These stones hold magic powers. I can’t show all of ‘em to ya. I’d lose some of the powers. Don’t you have a medicine bag? Don’t you think all men are losers? I’m still looking for the right one. Someday, maybe. I’m from Washington. Your brother lives in Bellevue? That’s where all the snobs live. No good people there. Why are you taking black and whites? You can get those on the postcards in the gift shop. What’s your name, again? Gotta get going on my spiritual journey.
And as she walked away to pursue another victim and continue her spiritual quest, I swear I saw a prayer cloth fall from one of the branches she passed.
Will turned to me and said, “Mom? Is she on drugs?” I quietly said, “I don’t know, Will, but maybe she ought to be.”
___________
We spent about two hours walking around the tower taking pictures and chatting with folks — sharing bits of knowledge that each party knew about the tower. In one case I was asked to take a picture. In another, I was asked if I’d seen this woman’s lost partner — he’d gone off in search of his lost sunglasses. We saw someone pointing at a deer. We marveled at the beauty of the deer with the tower as a backdrop.
These conversations were pleasant and brief.
They didn’t suck the energy out of us.
But I couldn’t quit thinking about the crusading/spiritual/vegetarian/man-hating/race-walker, even as we continued to duck around trees in an attempt to avoid her.
Was I supposed to take away something from our exchange with her?
Was I supposed to learn to be more judicious in who I decide to strike up a conversation with? But then I realized that I hadn’t done the striking, she had.
For the next 50 miles the kids and I had a very in-depth conversation about spirituality.
- What is spirituality?
- Can a spiritual person despise another group of people?
- Can a spiritual person force their beliefs on another?
- Isn’t one person’s spiritual quest another person’s raid and pillage?
- Is a spiritual person intolerant?
- Can we be judgmental and spiritual?
- Can I be spiritual and eat meat?
- Is a person spiritual just because they say they are?
- If I profess to be spiritual, and walk angrily, will I have lean muscles in my arms and legs when I’m 59?
- Can I put ibuprofen in a medicine bag?
We finished our conversation about the time we stopped for burgers at a conveniently placed fast-food joint, just off the highway exit.
__________
I’m figuratively hanging a prayer flag for Loud Talking Binocular Woman. I’m hanging another for the lessons we are handed that come in interesting packages. I’m putting up another flag to remind us to always be open to receiving life’s lessons. I’m hanging yet another flag for the wise folks who build fast food joints right off the highway. If it weren’t for them, how else could I enjoy a burger while traveling the country, talking of spirituality and vegetarianism.
Can you think of anyone who *needs* to be on a spiritual quest any more than, bless her heart, Binocular Woman? LOL
Loved this post. :-)
Lisa,
EX-actly. ;)
Nice to hear from you.
So another lesson to take is – she hates men, and she will never find the right one, just because of one jerk. Just because you spent half your life with a jerk doesn’t mean there’s not a really great guy out there for you. If you judge them all by one, you will never find the right one.
I also have to say, you don’t meet many vegetarian Indians. Just sayin’!!!! LOL
Kath,
Okay, how’d you know I needed a good laugh?
And I like your attitude about finding a good man.
Miss you.
You’re a fabulous writer Jesse, I can picture her so clearly. I’ll hang a prayer flag for her too.
:)
Anel,
Thank you. ;)
It has been just over a year since we met her.
Kids and I just went on a short road trip and we were reminiscing about the gal at Devil’s Tower. She crossed paths with us for a reason!
Do you think those subconscious reactions to N characteristics are like nails on a chalkboard? When I feel tense and irritable about someone’s behavior, I can pretty much guarantee that is what it is.
Sounds like it was her way or the highway…glad you found the highway (and a yummy burger! :)
Z,
I’ve noticed that when I’m in the presence of a narcissist, I have a hard time taking a deep breath. They have a way of sucking the air out of a room – or at least out of my personal space.
I am pretty sure my eyes are rolled completely to the back of my head…only the whites showing. And my blood starts boiling…
Yikes what a way to be hijacked on a fun trip! And you’re still able to look beyond the obvious to see what you can learn from a terribly uncomfortable encounter. I’m pretty sure my reaction would have been more like Zaira’s description LOL. Yay for fast food places where you need them most!
Jenn,
It’s been awhile since we took that trip. Her name still comes up in conversation. She was a real piece of work!