It’s a gray morning in South Florida. The humidity has everything sticky, even the air feels like you could push it around. We ran the air conditioning all night just to dry out the place a bit.
I misjudged two people pulling into our campsite last night, neighbors on our immediate right and left. Both were those quick snap judgments we humans, or at least me, are so unfortunately prone to. The first, because he had his truck parked in our spot as we arrived, and the second based on what he was wearing and the state of his campsite.
Soon after we’d parked, and as I was out getting the kids’ bikes down, I learned how miscalculated I was when both neighbors came calling separately to introduce themselves, welcome us to the loop, and ask about our journies – the RV campground version of delivering a meatloaf on move-in day.
Chris, a mortgage broker with a flight attendant wife, had his rig in the shop and the whole family was living in a large tent in the meantime. With no storage, they’d taken essentials from the vehicle and tucked them around the site, mostly stuff for the kids and thus strewn around as kids will do. Preconceived notions & bias: 1, Dave: 0.
Antone, a tax adjuster, and his family were waiting for escrow to close on their new house so they could get the keys, the old house having already sold. He moved his truck almost as soon as he saw us pull into the loop, and apologized for having it there initially. Preconceived notions & bias: 2, Dave: 0.
Each family had kids, and they, unsurprisingly, hit it off, playing like long lost best buds. Cohen and Antone’s kid, in particular, played well into the dark and chose to eat late dinners rather than stop. Preconceived notions & bias: 0, children: 2.
“… Unless you turn and become like little children…” I think someone said that once.