ALL IT TAKES

At the end of the day, Wanganui, NZ was clean, orderly and welcoming. By the time I checked into the hostel, unpacked what I needed and ate something, it was bedtime. The next morning, low clouds and rain greeted me as I checked out. In reflection, it’s amazing how many little things become strung together, like beads on a string, in the dot to dot passage through a day. Connecting the dots is what I have been doing and all it takes is for an insignificant little dot to turn the world around, even if for only a day. That said, it was the fact that my hostel charged too much for wifi and I put my internet work off until the morning, when I could get a free connection at McDonald’s. After a breakfast sandwich, I went to work on the computer but was in no hurry. The rain had put a damper on my plans for the morning. I wanted to see the Tasman Sea but studying the map and satellite photos, between the road and the weather my trip to the beach got shelved. 

Then my connection cut me off. Seems McD’s free wifi was free as advertised but only for half an hour. Too many kids downloading games and videos so they put a limit on it, just enough to get you through your meal. I learned, the library has free wifi and no time limit. I got there at 9:05, just after they opened and the wifi area was already full. Only one spot remained at the last carrel table. I set to work, but not without noticing the young woman on my left. She was working. You can tell when someone is really working on a computer, something about the quick tempo and frequent pauses to think and check notes, then rethink and push on. She was working. My 120-240 volt adapter was too big to fit between other plugs on the power strip and she offered her spot on the end; said her battery was full strength and she could work off of that. Something amazing about eye contact. There may be nothing there but then it may be an invitation to frame a question that leads to more questions and into a conversation. At either end, the framer chooses not to let it end just yet. 

Sarah Tocker is a trim, thirty-ish lady with a healthy sense of curiosity and willingness to share. In two sentences, we let our work go and were talking about what we do and why. She is a partner in business with her mother; consultants, facilitators and implementers in leadership training. Turns out, we share a great deal relating to educational, environmental and social issues. Interesting, in NZ as well as Canada, libraries allow conversations; none of the hush-hush, pin-drop silence that is enforced in the USA. Had we been in Grand Rapids or Kansas City, the conversation could have never taken place; only an approving nod and back to work. 

Wanganui is a coastal city of about 40,000 on the west coast of the North Island. Just over midway down, between the two main cities, Auckland and Wellington, her work calls for a lot of travel. Then she concedes that if not for her ‘house-husband’ Aneurin, she couldn’t get it done. She is the bread winner and he manages the house and kids. It works and everyone is comfortable with it. The fire alarm goes off and even though it’s only a drill, we walk away from our work and go outside with all the other people. Fire trucks and first responders all over the place and they want us all to move up the street. The rain had stopped and continued our conversation; went up into a small park area were many knee high, white crosses were carefully arranged in rows. ANZAC Friday is a holiday observed in NZ in late April to honor service members who lost their lives in wars, serving their homeland. Early in the morning in every community, people turn out for a somber ceremony of remembrance. Each town remembers its own defenders by name, all the way back to when NZ was a new nation. Each cross had a local name on it and in the early hours of that Friday morning, that’s all that is going on in communities all over the land. Businesses remain closed until 1:00 p.m. It’s a very important holiday for Kiwis. ANZAC Friday: the ceremony was scheduled for the next morning. 

Back inside, we got to our work. Outside, the sun came out and blue replaced the clouds. Sarah had a lunch date at 1:00. As she was getting ready to leave, she said, “It will be beautiful now down at South Beach.” I admitted I had already decided to go there. Then she gave me a piece of paper with an address written on it. “If you’re still in town, we’re having dinner at 5:30 and we’d love to have you join us.” How often does that happen? I couldn’t do anything but accept. I got back online and rescheduled my reservations for the night; drove back to the hostel and checked in for another night in Wanganui. 

The drive out to the beach went past the airport and turned into a sandy two-track that wound around through sand dunes and pools of standing water. I stopped where other cars were parked and ventured on foot through the gap, over a crest and down onto a wide, sandy stretch, full of drift wood and chunks of pumice, all the way down to where the tide was coming in, off the Tasman Sea. The sand was a blend of brown, gray and darker gray and it was so fine even the lightest breeze rippled it out on the leeward side of every piece of wood, flotsam and even the smallest, sandy deposit. I walked, took photographs and met more German students on holiday. They had their surf boards but the waves weren’t quite big enough to take a ride. A teenage girl with her Border Collie was their guide for the afternoon. Straight out, if you could only see so far, we imagined the Great Barrier Reef. 

Dinner time, I found the address and was met at the door by a huge Kiwi with a full, grizzly beard. He had a little, blond girl on one arm and another one hanging on his leg. Aneurin introduced himself and I asked him to spell his name but at best, with the accent, I was still at a loss. The house was a simple, one story cottage with a small yard in a neighborhood of other similar, clean, well kept homes. The floor was strewn with doll houses and toys. Olivia is 6 with fine features and straight blond hair. Sylvia is almost 3, with cheeky, Shirley Temple dimples and curls. I had my hands full. We worked at conversation in between toys, games and puzzles. Aneurin is a surfer and my knowledge there is quite thin. I did know about surfing in Alaska, off the coast near Yakutat. He checked it on his I-pad and was impressed. I felt good to have contributed something, anything. 

The girls helped arrange the place settings and we sat down to fish, peas and a salad. The meal was awesome and the company was grand. For desert we had a local fruit that looked something like an avocado but with tart, white flesh. Sarah had baked it like sliced apples and it couldn’t have been better. We talked while the girls broke out new toys and tried to entice us into the living room. I begged off but promised we would blow bubbles when I finished my desert. Then I ate slow as we continued to talk. Sarah and Aneurin chose to live in a smaller city, out of the mainstream and when they meet people they find interesting, they invite them to dinner and the chance for the girls to broaden their experience as well. I took that as a great compliment.

Bubble blowing was outrageous. Olivia had it down pat to begin with and Sylvia came along fast. I coaxed them to blow the bubbles up in the air and count them on the way down. I had as much fun as they did. Later, I shared some photographs on my computer and the evening wound down gracefully. Getting ready to leave, Olivia friended me on a piece of blue paper with drawings and my name. She also slipped a bubble blower into my back pack to remember her by. I told her I would keep it in my guitar case, with other treasures; can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed an evening more. All it takes is for one unexpected, unprovoked, seemingly irrelevant dot to line up with another and you let the magic run its course. What if it hadn’t rained or I got my work done at McDonald’s? What if there hadn’t been a fire drill or my adapter had fit in the first place? But it did and I didn’t; there was and it didn’t fit. It doesn’t matter now because I sensed I was just a piece of the puzzle and it was coming together nicely.