Wisconsin and Steinbeck

I’m driving through Wisconsin on my way to my paternal grandmother’s home in Madison. My mother has always disdained the state—in her opinion the people are not tasteful or cultured, and they have no appreciation of beauty. I am struck though by the beauty of the diverse countryside, for it seems to change with every second I drive—from rickety hills to large expanses of farmland. As I pass by Amish families in their carriages, I am reminded of how far away I am from New York City. If I were to speak to my mother right now, I would tell her that it is not true that Wisconsin does not have culture; the truth is that the the culture is so foreign to New Yorkers as to be incomprehensible. For me it is strange to see that we are part of the same America. I chuckle at how the  Amish refuse the advancements of technology such as cars and electricity, yet at the same time I appreciate their rich tradition. They are not concerned with the movements of the stock market or where to go clubbing at night; their worries seem simpler and more authentic--when to harvest the crops or what words to use to pray to God. 

I’ve been reading Jon Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley: In Search of America before going to bed. I thought it was fitting for my cross-country adventure, although so far it has been pretty uneventful. He has a passage on American identity, and how we are “alike in our Americanness” (209). Although he is vague, I must agree, for I can’t help to think that I have something in common with the Amish families. We look at each other with the same sense of wonder. 

But Steinbeck’s novel has also been bugging me. How is it that he can easily make friends with strangers across the country? How is it that people trust him so readily and do not take advantage of him? I think for a second that maybe I should try to be more like him, but then I realize that his novel just reminds me of my limitations as a female traveler.