I remember working different travel nursing assignments, and living outside of the city in much more rural settings. On farms with livestock, near rivers among the redwood trees, off of sand dunes and bluffs guarded by eucalyptus trees that the monarchs flitter to on their migration south. I learned during that time that a trailer park is a lower class RV park. I arrived one day at a trailer park in the central coast of California, and was the only person there with a full set of teeth. The neighborhood all rushed to the back of the park and circled around two men beating the crap out of each other. The winner had defeated the other man in the fight and walked up and down the small street of the trailer park with his chest puffed like a rooster swinging a bat back and forth. At that very moment, this man thought he had the biggest balls in that very park. I left the next day to an RV park just above the sand dunes nestled by the ocean.

An RV park was a little more refined. It was just me, my truck, and trailer. Sometimes a construction worker or other traveling nurse would come through to stay for a while in the same places I would stay at. And sometimes it was just a lot of retired folks, and others who just couldn’t live in the familiar rooted and grounded home for whatever reason. I never asked why they were there if it wasn’t very clear because I figured it was none of my business anyways. I liked the fact that at RV parks in remote areas that if I forgot to lock my truck at night that it probably wouldn’t go anywhere anyway.

I reminisce about going down to a remote parts of the river and swimming with no other beings out there but my two dogs and a beaver, and a deer on the other side of the river. My dog Lulu would jump in and swim with me, while Iggy would sunbathe on the shore. One particular day there was a beaver across the river, and later on a deer passing through. With a little space nobody cared about each other doing their own thing. At night all the retired folks had gone to sleep by the time that I would get home from my shifts at whatever hospital I was contracting at. On clear warm nights occasionally I would go outside and into the woods and it was nothing but me and the stars. It was quiet there. It was the most free I have ever felt. I was very acclimated to being in nature and incredibly comfortable with it. Wild animals didn’t scare me, it was people that scared me.

I read a lot of philosophy during that time of my life. I learned how my foods were farmed. I learned how to be by myself. The art of being alone, which some never have the opportunity for. Loneliness visited occasionally, but never stayed for any longer than it did while I lived in the city. On occasion I would come into the city to hang out with friends, and then return to seclusion. After two years of bouncing around the more rural parts of California, a friend brought up the notion of coming back to the city. With time the isolation was starting to get to me, and knew I wanted to be around others. This stage of my life was coming to an end. We watched the meteor showers above us, drank scotch, and dreamed of the future as we listened to the river rush past after a heavy rain from the days prior.

Three months later, I had secured a place in Oakland, California. It was the perfect mix of urban with some touches of what I liked about being rural. It was also not smack dab in the middle of the city. If it was that would have been a major culture shock. I needed to ease back in. My best friend lived just two blocks down with two other friends. Old hippies lived across the street and had a garden plot of land. Retired people sat on their porch and watched the days go by. It was a community. People were friendly. Some of the first nights I went out on the town with a friend I would watch all the people passing by. We stood outside of a club after one of our friends bands played downtown Oakland. A man turned around from the club next-door and shouted at me with a hefty amount of defensiveness asking what I was looking at. I got scared. I didn’t realize it was a threat to observe others. People in the countryside do it all the time! Months later someone was shot at that same club. Maybe it was just a rough club to be at. Or maybe this is just the city where nobody talks or looks at each other.

The other night some friends and I offered cheers over drinks and food. We talked about how in some cultures it is rude to look another in the eye, and some cultures it is rude not to look another in the eye. It is tough to navigate what is right and what is wrong. More importantly one can never please everyone. However, we can try to be kind to each other. To offer the same community that I was welcomed by in my little neighborhood in Oakland. To agree to disagree in some matters but still get along and live amongst each other. While some parts of Oakland have additional challenges as a community,  I feel as though I truly lucked out within my burrough. Every city has its parts of the city with struggles. Places where you know you don’t belong at certain hours for safety’s sake. Even in the most unsafe areas, as a visiting nurse doing infusions for people later on in my nursing career, I can safely say that the people who looked like thugs and drug dealers could see I was there to help and I was never harmed. Could have just been lucky. Having some tattoos kind of helped. Would I return to some of those same places at night? Absolutely not. Some of those same places at night could be a war zone and resembles that of the Wild West still today. People I’d visit would look out for me through their barred screen doors and windows as I walked to my car, wishing me to please be safe. Still… the key here is no matter where you are that kindness lives on with a little care and respect for others in our communities no matter where you are..

In the thick of the pandemic, everyone hunkered down. Isolating once again. The idea of being alone once more wasn’t new to me, but it was new for a lot of people in our society. For me, it was a choice to live further out without resources because I just wanted to see what it was like. We all had to learn how to entertain ourselves without external stimuli of clubs, dance halls, bars, movie theaters, live music, live classrooms, meet ups, etc.. I understood adapting to going outside and into nature as I had done the same many years earlier with visits to friends homes occasionally. As everyone adapted we saw our national and state parks systems get overwhelmed. With some putting themselves in dangerous outdoor situations without proper training in being in the back country or rock climbing to name a few. While some learned that reaching to just the internet is also dangerous in itself while comparing ourselves to others lives as they curate their images online after we look in the mirrors of ourselves just getting up for the day, no make up and teeth still unbrushed hence the term goblin mode.

The challenge this isolation offered us is the ability to adapt to socializing again. Perhaps this is an opportunity for us as a society to empathize with each other just a little more. To agree to disagree. Or as Danusha Lamèris writes and Helena Bonham Carter recites to treat each other with just a little more kindness. To come back to the basics of being human and offering a nice gesture to each other once again out of the goodness of our own hearts. After all, nobody wants to be left out. Everyone wants to be loved and accepted. A simple smile, or asking someone how they are doing before requesting assistance could be worth its weight in gold in the long run. A little kindness goes a long way.

Now for a poem by Danusha Leméris, recited by Helena Bonham Carter. A nice warm hug of a poem offering a little bit of hope.

-Keri

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