Just a few weeks ago I drove through Fernley, NV, the scene of this weekend's weather catastrophe. When I hear of disasters like this in places I've been I feel a strange sense of connection, even though I don't know the people there.
Traveling in an RV, especially on backroads, offers a connection with the heart of this country unlike the experience available to jet-setters and Interstate zoomers. I maintain that our disconnect has cost our country a tremendous resource: our compassion-- or even just a responsibility-bearing sense of connection--with our backroad brothers and sisters.
My passing through Fernley, or my week of bliss spent on Oregon's coast right before the December storms blasted the area, or my recognizing the names of hometowns of dead soldiers...none of that matters on a bigger scale, but to me it's a prime benefit of my nomadic lifestyle.
My struggle, which I value as much as the benefits of my travels, is to figure out how to transform my connection into something that can help. No easy answers there....
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