Last week at this time, I was sitting at a kitchen table in a warm, cozy kitchen in Oklahoma. There were fading family photos taped to dark wood cabinets, coffee brewing on the counter, and a flurry of chatter as people came in and out of the open screen door.
As I leaned back in my cherry wood seat, I listened while they planned different activities for the weekend and commiserated about long to-do lists. I watched as they moved as a cohesive, albeit slightly chaotic, unit: kids wrestling in the corner, siblings negotiating school pickups, and the matriarch pouring coffee through it all.
Over several hours, we covered a wide variety of topics: I peppered the family with questions about the area, their joys and what keeps them up at night. Working alongside Richard, the German filmmaker I mentioned in my vlog, we bounced ideas of community and identity around the table: from Helen, the matriarch, to her son Paul and cousin Jeff.
And, as what often happens with questions of community and identity, the conversation often veers back to politics and democratic philosophy. On that day, one sticking point was public transportation.
Jeff thought that there needed to be a public bus line implemented from the town next door through their town to Altus, a larger town about 12 miles away. His argument was to follow the European model, where kids used public transit rather than school busses, and that it could run several times a day to serve other members of the community as well.
Helen disagreed. She didn’t see a need for a public bus line since the number of users wouldn’t generate enough funds to make the line profitable, and it would turn into a financial burden for their limited tax dollars. In her view, people drove, and those who couldn’t drive for whatever reason had neighbors or other options to catch a ride.
The debate continued.
Richard weighed in with his international perspective, siding with Jeff and sharing more about how transit works in Germany. Helen countered, pointing out the number of people with cars far outnumbered those without and it wasn’t realistic to expect people would choose to use limited public transport rather than driving.
Here is where the conversation escalated, growing in heat. Jeff accused Helen of being foolish, citing the fact that she had never traveled far beyond this town since she moved there in the 1960s.
“You think America is so great, but in Europe, no one wants to come here!” he said, hand on the table emphatically. “They don’t need to! They have everything we have, except it’s better. You’d know this if you ever got out of this place and saw something.”
“Wait a second,” I cut in. “Why does she NEED to do that? Why is your view more valid than hers?”
Everything paused, as all the eyes around the table turned to face me.
“I just don’t see why you get to say the way you choose to live your life is better than the way she chooses to live hers,” I said.
I normally bite my tongue and let situations unfold in front of me, not letting my own personal opinions color the conversations I witness, but I felt very protective of Helen.
Personally, I think there’s something beautiful about finding contentment where you’re rooted instead of always grasping for something new, shiny, or “better.” This doesn’t mean I don’t see value in travel (if it’s not clear from the past eight months, I definitely do!), but I also believe there are many ways to get the benefits of travel (world view expansion, empathy, character growth) without leaving your home. While I love to regularly wake up in a new place, I recognize that it’s not everyone’s dream — nor is it viable for every person, whether that’s due to time, finances or interest.
As Helen cited, she can see anything on the world via YouTube, an amazing resource to introduce her and her grandkids to places she may not ever see and people she may never meet in person. And Jeff hosts dozens of travelers every year from all over the world through workaway programs and other connections — essentially bringing parts of the world right to her kitchen table.
Most importantly, I do not think we can prescribe what’s best for others based on our own personal views: what’s right for us may not work for our neighbors, and that’s okay. This goes for travel, politics, and nearly every personal decision we make.
At the end of the day, Helen and Jeff are family, and while they may squabble, their love for each other runs deeper than a disagreement. The entire incident passed within the hour and we were back to business as usual, chatting over coffee before saying our goodbyes.
Come Monday this week, they were together once again around that kitchen table: coffee, kids and all. Because even when we disagree, we can still find bonds that run deeper than what divides us.
And that, to me, says everything.
