“…love Dad, and journeying mercies be with you throughout your travels.”
These words, regardless of whether a physical journey was being planned or in progress, were the closing parting words in many of my father’s letters as well as in his face-to-face “good-byes”—and often referred to my developing from a boy, to a young man then into a spiritually conscious and responsible adult. Recalling those words of hope and grace, while returning home to Vermont from a recent trip to California, brought a needed smile to my face, and a respite of patience and peace to my soul. Here’s the backstory.
It was a short flight from San Francisco to Long Beach, California, and as usual I’d prepared well for it. The NY Times was open to the sports page, Real Jazz was playing a song by Trombone Shorty on the in-flight audio, and I was enjoying the natural light from my window seat in 9F. Passengers were patient but focused, lined up in the aisle looking for their seats and storing carry-on bags. None more so than the stern-faced woman who ushered her companion, a smiling little girl in a white pinafore (her granddaughter I assumed), into seat 9E.
“Sit still until I finish,” she said pointing her index finger at the well-behaved child. I watched the woman’s practiced moves as she swabbed all the surfaces the little girl might touch with several Clorox Handi Wipes. I admired her efficiency and thoroughness as much as I did her charge’s obedience as she cleaned. When she appeared to be almost done I interrupted her mission to ask if she’d like me to wipe the armrest the little girl and I would share.
“That’s quite all right,” she replied, “but thank you for asking.”
Once safely buckled-in, the little girl’s feet in white Mary Jane shoes to match her dress barely extended over the edge of her seat. She and I exchanged smiles and she declared, “I’m excited because we’re going to Disneyland! Are you too?”
“No,” I replied, “but I’m excited because I’m going to see friends.”
The elder woman placed a sandwich on the tray table which captured my seatmate’s undivided attention. I resumed reading the New York Times and listening to music. Following a smooth flight, and quick taxi to the gate my two fellow travelers prepared to disembark, but before doing so the precocious little girl asked me if I’d had a good flight.
“Yes,” I said, “and you?”
“Me too,” she replied politely. Her grandmother smiled as they exited the row and walked down the aisle.
Work and pleasure, time with clients and friends, mixed well during the ensuing busy week in the Los Angeles area, and though I enjoy visits to my California roots, returning to my home in Vermont is something I cherish. I savored these newly formed memories as I boarded my flight for the return trip from LAX to JFK. A creature of [some] habit I’d booked seat 9F for this leg of the trip as well. I found my seat, turned on Real Jazz, and settled in for the flight.
Though looking forward to returning to the state I now call home there was a restlessness in my heart about leaving loved ones and clients after this short visit—illness and aging, troubling life circumstances among friends, family members, and clients occupied my thoughts. When I opened the LA Times so too did the disturbing headlines of a world in flux and chaos, frequently shaped by thoughtless, posturing self-serving leaders.
A young, overweight man seated himself in the middle seat next to me. We shared a nodded greeting as he began to situate himself. While struggling with the seat belt his right elbow came in contact with my audio controls on the armrest between our seats. This motion instantly changed channels from the soft straight ahead jazz I was enjoying to raucous, full volume grunge. I tapped on his arm, pointed to the controls and he lip synced an apology. This sequence occurred several more times once we reached our cruising altitude, and each time he was apologetic. The audio intrusions stopped after I established my left elbow as an immovable barrier between us.
Pleased about the pilot’s announcement that a strong tail wind would bring us into JFK an hour ahead of schedule I turned on the flight map to find our location. As I was viewing the route over Iowa my seatmate edged forward in his seat and then bent over his laptop. With a dexterity that comes with practice he unabashedly began sticking the pinky and index fingers of both hands into his right and left nostrils respectively—left hand fingers plumbed the left and right-hand fingers the right. When all four digits were topped with whatever he’d been mining for he didn’t reach for a hanky or tissue, but instead wiped his fingers clean on the back of the passenger seat in front of him. This occurred on three or four separate occasions, but it wasn’t until he began eating airline snacks with those same fingers that the magnitude of my disgust made me bristle.
Thoughts of the engaging little girl from flight #424, and her cleanliness-conscious grandmother swirled in my mind, but brought little relief from my abhorrent and nauseating present reality. I closed my eyes but a mindful practice eluded me. A ballad by Miles Davis couldn’t make a dent in my loathing of the man next to me. The offense to my sensibilities filled my soul. Looking out the window brought perspective because the view of the plains 35,546 feet below made me aware of how small I am, and my abhorrence, wounded sensibilities, loathing and disgust insignificant in a less myopic world view. Are we not all flawed and equal? Why had I not offered him a Kleenex?
“Mercy is radical kindness. Mercy means offering or being offered aid in desperate straits. Mercy is not deserved. It involves absolving the unabsolvable, forgiving the unforgivable,” writes Anne Lamott. Her words brought me comfort as I absolved myself of righteousness, and my fellow passenger of his uncouthness. Finding ways to be humble, embrace humility, and be confident in that arduous process, accept otherness and in so doing avoid the trap of self-righteous thinking trips me up over and over and over again.
I do want to practice loving and forgiveness, but too often only when it’s easy, not humbling. And when it stretches me, is difficult, challenging, and tests my self-centered perception of how things ought to be, I resist. Lesson learned, for now at least.
Whenever I think I’ve “got it,” God and the universe are bound to seat me next to a “nosepicker” to remind me of my feet of clay, and how much of a work in progress I continue to be.
Traveling mercies, Dad, and thanks.
by 
Yah!!!
Dona,
I agree!
Roger
Thanks Roger for picking a real winner for us! Best wishes and especially “journeying mercies” to you and all as your travels continue.
Rich
Rich,
Thanks for commenting. I’ve decided that all my future travels will be on a motorcycle thereby only having myself to monitor for fissures and flaws.
Roger
During the 15 hears that I traveled 40 weeks of the year. mostly flying, I had several such events. And, like your story,the problem almost always occurred when my seat mate was an adult. I am not always the most forgiving individual so it was difficult to e nice about the situation but O did. While I did get upset I calmed myself down and realized that I also had many faults that I was sure others were not happy about.
Bud,
Thank you for reading, commenting, and sharing part of your own story. I’m pushing myself to read the Old Testament. The God of Israel is both quick and slow to anger, but either way forgiveness of his loathsome and errant people is quick to follow. Maybe God could take a flight, sit with a seatmate as you and I have, and then see how quickly he finds the forgiveness that often eludes us. He’d probably go first class, chat up the flight attendants and be oblivious–just a thought.
Roger
I find myself surveying the fellow passengers as the enter the plane sizing up which one will be a seatmate. Questions abound just from superficial terrorist. Vacation, for the woman in the colorful parrot hat. Non-conversationalist for the young man with white wire and ear buds snaking from every pocket. Overeater for the man who I hoped booked two seats. more and more of those these days. Terrorist-uhoh going to my dark place, unlikel. Finally, the winner is the young woman who turns out to be on her first plane trip and a little nervous. Good. She takes a seat and grabs the information packet on seat belt useage, sliding down the ramp and life vests “I can’t swim,’ she says. Instinctively, I pat her hand acting like a pro, “You’ll never have to.” In my heart I know I’ll never be able to pull out my seat cushio/flotation device and lace my arms through it.
I’m happy to see that you were able to find your decorum and overlook with grace this man’s odious behavior. I probably would have tapped him on the shoulder and said, “What would your mama say if she caught you doing that?” I bet he’d stop.
Mary,
Thank you for reading and commenting then sharing with humor what most of us do as we “nest” and ready ourselves not just for the flight, but for the person with whom we’ll share the ride. How many of my fellow travelers have looked at me and thought–please, don’t sit next to me. During my fear-of-flying days I could have used a soft pat on the hand to quell the anxiety that therapy and strong drink couldn’t vanquish.
Roger
Wish you had an edit button. Second line superficial glances. unlikely, fourth line. Sorry for the typos.
Mary,
No apologies necessary. Shortly before his bogus arrest, trial and crucifixion Jesus spent prayerful time alone in a garden. If Luke’s account is accurate The Divine One shed sweat like drops of blood as he lived fully into his humanness asking to have this cup pass from him. Talk about a [verbal] typo! Though I’ve often wished for a delete button it is best that I’ve had to muddle my way through the mistakes, or improvisations as Miles Davis called them, and find unexpected “treasure” on the other side. We’re all in good company!
Roger
Oh Roger, it’s not always a pretty picture when traveling…seeing someone swabbing down the seat next to you with Clorox Handi Wipes to disinfect the area or catching sight of your seatmate emptying the contents of his schnoz on the handiest surface available… is a contradiction to say the least. No amount of liquor or stress reducing thoughts can prepare us for what we witness along the way…It’s no wonder you choose the window seat or listen to Tromebone Shorty and read the Times to provide distraction. Sometimes the tailwind we catch isn’t fast enough to get us to our destination. I choose the window seat too…it takes me out of the big aluminum tube and out to a wondrous sight of freedom and beauty. Journeying mercies be with us all throughout our travels in this life. Bette
Bette,
There are times I wish the “tailwind” could get me to becoming a more complete and whole human being with greater dispatch, but some aspects of living well take time. I enjoy your image of being released from “…the big aluminum tube and out to a wondrous sight of freedom and beauty.” Thank you for reading and taking the time to respond.
Roger
Thanks for the forewarning of “reader beware.” Unfortunately it did not prevent my stomach from actually churning with revulsion, reading and picturing the young man sitting next to you, picking his nose and wiping it on the seat back in front of him. I’m afraid I don’t share your soul-saving quest to be more accepting and forgiving of others’ offensive and inconsiderate behaviors, especially when trapped in close proximity for a few hours. I guess I’ll just need to be accepting and forgiving of my own human flaws of selfishness and judgements of others. The saving grace of this piece for me, was the contrasts you experienced in your two traveling companions as simply another example of the yin and yang of all life.
Your lovely memory and imprint of your Dad’s closing words of traveling mercies, have served you well .
Colette,
Soul-saving quests are beyond my skill set or gifts. Learning to accept and find some forgiveness in my soul for myself and others is a full-time endeavor. On occasion circumstances provide an opportunity to find something of that in cramped quarters where preferred escape is not possible. Thanks for reading and commenting. And sitting in 9F next to the passenger in 9E did provide “another example of the yin and yang of life.”
Roger
I was right there with you next to that delightful nose picker and the adorable little girl. Write on, my friend.
Jo Anne,
Certainly as the sweet little girl, but the n***-*****r? Nah! (I get your meaning)
Thanks for reading and commenting.
Roger
As a frequent traveler I never leave home without an adequate supply of hand wipes and reading material
Alan,
Thanks for reading and commenting. Now I know what it means to pack for “all occasions,” the unexpected in particular!
Roger