A Response to Criticisms

Advance, NC, April 15 -- Happy Tax Day to all you people out there. Hope you got all your forms filed. I hope I did, too; I’m pretty sure they all got taken care of. We are currently in another Thousand Trails preserve, just south of Winston-Salem. We spent about seven hours driving across northern North Carolina, mostly on small state routes that went through a variety of towns and lots of rural territory. I do like North Carolina; it is quite charming and a bit humble, genteel is maybe the best word, but beautiful at this time of year. Our site here is surrounded by dogwood in full bloom.

I admit to struggling with the trip today, mostly because I didn’t sleep well last night. I had an unsettling experience yesterday that kept me tossing and turning. It comes from me being too thin-skinned and caring too much about what people say. That’s an area I still need to work on, apparently.

Yesterday I received some emails from my Oregonian editor enclosing three letters he had received in response to my latest Oregonian article. I’ve already received some personal compliments on it and over the past two months have received several nice comments on my blog. These letters, though, weren’t complimentary; in fact, one of them actually felt like a vicious personal attack on me. The writer, “a seventh generation native of Louisiana” called my article “boorish, condescending and riddled with ridiculous cliches (i.e., ‘Charlie as alligator bait’)." He or she implied that my articled lacked “cultural sensitivity,” that my writing was bad and elevated “one region of the country at the expense of another.” She closed by “wondering why this gadabout Portlander ever left the Rose City in the first place." I wonder why if the writer loves Louisiana so much he or she is living in Oregon and has been for 20 years.

A second writer thinks I “missed the point” of my trip and focused on the high cost of diesel and the drive-through daiquiri shops. He or she went on to explain why New Orleans is wonderful and the value of the swamps which I supposedly derided in my article.

People, people. I said, and I quote, “From my perspective, Louisiana was the most unusual and the least inviting place” I had visited so far. I went on to say later in the article that I loved New Orleans and San Antonio, that “New Orleans was very beautiful.” I never said I hated New Orleans or Louisiana. I did find the “endless swamps” overwhelming and not something I found comforting. I am a girl born and raised in the high deserts of the west; of course the swamps of Louisiana were a bit of a shock to me. And frankly they seemed endless; they stretch on through to Florida and even up here in North Carolina and Virginia. In fact, there is a swamp between Virginia and North Carolina that is named the “The Great Dismal Swamp.” I didn’t label it that way; and I didn’t find it all that dismal. I loved the Everglades.

And I was very nervous around bodies of water that might harbor alligators, keeping Charlie as far back as possible. Alligators have been known to attack pets and Charlie loves the water. It was not a cliche; it was my honest fear, but daiquiris were never something that concerned me overmuch.

The copy editors had apparently decided -- in their infinite and unexplainable wisdom -- to title the article “Stuck in Gumbo, Fearful of Daiquiris.” We DID get stuck in gumbo and I lost several of my leveling blocks to it. Couldn’t pry them out! And I found -- as did Jeff -- the drive-through daiquiri stands hilarious. I didn’t fear them. I thought they were funny. If you can’t have a sense of humor about what you see that’s different it’s seems pretty sad to me.

I find it very curious that people who don’t know me at all feel qualified to call me names, to judge me guilty, to comment on my supposed purposes for traveling, and to assume that I don’t understand loss of loved ones, loss of home and possessions. I know these things better than many people. Yes, I chose to give up my home and most of my possessions, but that is because I think possessions can become chains, can trap us into a lifestyle that keeps us captive. I did not chose to lose my husband to a sudden, accidental death.

As to the purposes of traveling, the letters encouraged me to think about that again. Part of it is to see places I have long heard about and never seen. Curiosity, I guess. Does that mean I have to like them all? Part of it is to see old friends. Part is to grow and stretch, to meet new challenges and to be more aware of all the different parts that make up the U.S. Part of it is a spiritual journey and that part doesn’t get shared with Oregonian readers. I am not a PR person for Louisiana or any other state, not even for Oregon. I am just a person who happens to be sharing my honest thoughts about my travels with others. That people who don’t like my opinions and perspectives feel it is okay to attack my integrity and person illustrates how our society has devolved into name-calling when someone doesn’t agree with us.

Finally, from what I saw of Louisiana and her people, they are proud and secure enough to not really give a damn what some Yankee thinks about their swamps. In retrospect there were several incidences and experiences with the people of Louisiana that colored our visit in a negative way. Not even considering our brief trek into the Lower 9th Ward where we felt extremely uncomfortable and glowering looks made us feel as if we were the enemy, there were at least three other times when we were treated rudely or unkindly and not at all in a welcoming or friendly manner. There were also, however, a few very positive experiences that impressed us immensely.

These negative experiences serve as a reminder that each of us represents our state or city and being rude or behaving badly is bound to give visitors a negative impression. I try to bear that in mind as I drive my vehicles with Oregon plates in other places.

Louisiana is what it is: a very distinct state with a history, culture and landscape that are unlike any other. It is not a place I would feel comfortable living in, but I never said it was a bad place. I think Louisianans would not like Oregon much if they arrived in mid-January to freezing rain and temperatures in the 20s with an icy wind coming down from the Gorge. I arrived in Louisiana as some of the spring rains were beginning, when the cypress trees had not yet gotten their leaves but the heat and humidity where already present.

So to anyone who was offended by my sharing my own personal perspective I would like to say: learn to accept that we are all different, we like different things and that’s okay without getting angry at each other. That ability to express our opinions without being attacked is part of what makes this a wonderful country and this traveling a wonderful experience. To the rest of you, thanks for reading and laughing with me at the funny parts, crying with me at the sad parts, and for sharing in my joy and awe at all the many amazing parts.
TravelinLady