Who are these people?

The one thing I learned in my RV park stays: it’s fun to think about who the people next to you are. In my head, I’ve written an epic adventure for everyone I’ve met.

I make no judgments about the folks I see.  Some are passing through.  A lot are residents.  Everybody has a story.  When I was a kid we lived in an RV/trailer park in a corner lot in a super tiny single-wide mobile home.  It’s actually still there if you are interested in seeing it.  Sometimes I would marvel at the huge vehicles moving in and out.  In my eyes, it was the same as moving the house I thought was always forever cemented to the earth.

When I was young, there wasn’t a whole lot of getting to know your neighbors.  My life in that trailer was trapped inside of it, with the curtains drawn, and fear of punishment if you talked to any of “Those People™”.

I spent a lot of my youth “supposing” about our neighbors in that sad little park.  I had stories in my head for everyone but never could confirm them, because I was trained never to trust people I lived near. This had extended into my personal life when I got older and persisted until my late 20s.  I don’t know what changed.  At that point, I quit supposing and started to get to know the people around me.  It is a lot of effort, but I do it.

I have an RV now, and I’m sitting in the middle of a park.  It’s full of long term and short term folks.   I “suppose” my little heart out like I did when I was a kid.  I have elaborate stories for everyone nearby.

For this trip, I have a neighbor catty-corner from my spot.  He’s got the whole permanent RV setup, complete with wooden stairs, faux grass, pots with faux flowers, and bolted down RV hookups.  When I open my dining room table windows, I have a view of his place.  I sat there snacking on a late dinner and wondered who he was.  So I named him Roger.  I saw Roger out sweeping out his yard area, then cleaning his car.  This morning, while walking Jack for a dog morning constitutional, I saw Roger standing by the maintenance sheds in his bathrobe after a swim, talking to one of the employees.  I waved.  Later, I saw Roger in the same bathrobe puttering around his faux grass front yard.  I imagined Roger was a guy that traveled a lot in that giant RV, and eventually just landed here. He’s got no financial worries.  He gets to swim every day.  He’s got a nice clean yard, a basic car, and a tidy home. Roger may stay here forever.  He may move on.  Right now, he’s working on his beard (It’s a few inches shy of Santa). That’s my story about Roger.

My other favorite neighbor is behind my RV, two spots down.  His space is actually two: there’s a giant tour-bus sized RV, and in the space next to it a town car and limo, both impeccably maintained.  In my brain, he is Bill the roadie.  Bill does transportation for entertainment acts.  He keeps the town car and limo shiny, and when needed he hops in them and drives them up to Tahoe to carry the big acts around the lake to different venues.  Bill has the Tour Bus RV. When needed, he cleans it up, stashes his things in a bunk, then goes on the road with whatever act hired him. Bill loves music and plays guitar himself for fun.  He’s seen all off the states and has no regrets about his untethered life.

In this case, I’ve not yet met “Roger” or “Bill”.  I might get to.  I might not. I just hope their lives are as good as I hoped for them.

That said, I am always excited to talk to the people I “suppose” about in person and get to know who they really are.  Over the years, I’ve learned my “supposing” stories are overly generous and romantic.  Even if the truth about the people I meet is more prosaic than my dreams, I do secretly wish they really had the life I dreamt up for them.  Sometimes the truths they tell me are far more awesome than I considered; sometimes they are less thrilling.

I think the most important part is instead of being that shut-in little girl, I can go outside and meet these people.  And make friends.  Or don’t make friends and just say hello.  Maybe I should be more afraid than I am, however, I’d rather view my fellow humans as more friendly than I was taught to, and keep trying to figure out if my neighbors are living the dream I think they are.