Stereo Types
Some of the most literate people I’ve ever known where those found in small hamlets and villages throughout the Rocky Mountain West before the advent of satellite TV. I remember as a child, while with my father, visiting a sheep herder in the remote wilds of Central Idaho and being astounded at the number of books that he had stashed away in every available space inside of his little camp wagon. He had books ranging from Louis L’Amour to Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey along with various other works from the likes of Oscar Wilde, Mark Twain, and even Wordsworth. This is not all together uncommon among the old timers of the area.
Because of the solitary, almost monkish existence of many of these people who wrangled cattle, herded sheep, fixed the fences, and rode the range, they had a literary understanding that I believe rivals that of many Ivy League literati types. Literature after all is quite organic. Someone spending an inordinate amount of time alone, embedded in the natural world is going to be in a position to deeply ponder what is read in a unique way. Keep in mind that many of these people had very little in the way of formal education.
My own father is an example of this. Having dropped out of school in the seventh grade during the Depression to work for the family, he is certainly not what you would call educated. He has lived a hard, often solitary, life of ranching and logging. Even so, he is very well read and is capable of carrying on a conversation of remarkable lucidity on a huge variety of subjects. Very much on par with anyone you are likely to meet. Of course it’s not unusual for the stereo type to be at odds with the reality. I’ve seen this many times, most people have.
Some years ago I was on plane making a final approach into Warsaw. People were already out of their seats and jockeying for position which lead to the flight attendants walking down the aisles imploring everyone to sit down and, once again, stash their carryon luggage. I remember an elderly woman with amazingly sparkling eyes sitting next to me, clutching her bag and acting as if she were warming up for a sprint. When the plane finally touched down, the passengers broke out in applause then headed for the exits. All the while, the plane was still speeding down the runway. At the time the applause was startling to me. My knowledge of Polish was limited to the signs above the restrooms and the word “kava” for coffee. I wondered if perhaps there was something near catastrophic going on of which I was not aware. Think about it; people in a fever-pitch hurry to get off of a plane and then breaking out in applause when it finally landed. In the states—and most of Western Europe for that matter—you will not see people clambering to position themselves. Usually, they will not even unlatch their seatbelts until the plane is at a complete stop, and the exiting process is quite calm. The point I’m making is that the stereo type is that Americans are always in a hurry and verge on rudeness in demonstrating their impatience. Generally speaking, Americans will go out of their way to exercise politeness and, with the exception of waiting to get inside of Wal-Mart to take part in a day-after-Thanksgiving sale, are remarkably unhurried while establishing a line.
Speaking of breaking out into applause when an airplane lands, as far as I know this appears to be a uniquely European thing. The first time that my wife—who is European—flew within the states, she almost broke out in applause on a plane full of Americans when it landed. When my mother-in-law visited last Fall from Europe, my wife informed her that Americans don’t applaud as if begging for an encore when the plan lands. The thought being that my wife could prevent her mother from experiencing any undo embarrassment, the type of which my wife had almost subjected herself to. Her mother was surprised that Americans don’t applaud upon landing. Her reply was, “Ungrateful Americans” to which my reply was a immense amusement and the acknowledgment that she could very well have a point.