Magazine Info
Simple and Honest Hospitality
by matt werbach
Just a week ago I had the chance to venture a little over half-way across the country to a family wedding in Southeastern Ohio. I wish I could say that the red-eye flights don’t bother me, or that I never complain about the opportunity to see my family and some old friends, but alas, it simply isn’t true—or at least not the whole truth. I was bitter. I was tired. And to make matters worse, Ohio in June is a sweltering, humid, down-right muggy environment. As my fiancé and I exited the small jet into the Port of Columbus International Airport a deep, dank stench of heavy moisture on old carpet greeted us.
I was nearly sleepless after flying out of PDX at 11 p.m. the previous night because of connecting flights and the fact that I stand at about 6 feet 4 inches—the typical airline seat hits me right about mid-shoulder blade and my head bobs around every few seconds waking me up. My knees were sore from pressing into the seat in front of me and my eyes were bloodshot—a true red-eye. We packed lightly, so we were quickly in the rental car and on our way to the rolling green hills near Athens, Ohio.
I’m from Ohio, though it’s been half a decade since I’ve called it home. You would think I’d be used to the humidity, the corn fields and the aggressive driving, but somehow every time I go back it all seems new and frustrating again. By 9 a.m. it was pushing 80 degrees and the moisture in the air made it seem heavy, like a warm, wet blanket. We met my mom and my aunt whose son was to be married at the reception site, because what’s better after flying overnight across the country on an hour of sleep than to help unload 20 or 30 boxes of liquor, wine, soft drinks and mixers in the early morning heat? I was all smiles and hugs on the outside and fire and ire on the inside. I’d like to think I pulled it off, but my family knows me all-too-well.
We were half-way through the carload of boxes at the Eclipse Company Store when it happened. A father and son staying in this tiny town northeast of several other tiny towns simply reached in and started carrying the boxes up the short flight of stairs and into the venue. A few of us introduced ourselves, thinking for sure that they must be the bride’s family, and they smiled warmly and shook our hands. Grandma asked how they know the family. “Oh, we were just walking by—looked like you could use a hand,” the father said. His son was already back out the door grabbing another couple boxes. There was a moment of silence, and then we all laughed and smiled and thanked them for the help. In minutes the car was unloaded and they both vanished as quickly as they’d come.
I’m originally from the Cleveland area, and I spent several years in Chicago. When you’re in those places you don’t want people reaching into your car to grab your stuff. It’s almost never a gesture of hospitality or thoughtfulness. People simply do not say “hello” to each other; they rarely even make eye contact on purpose. Somehow what that father and son had just done for us started me on to a pattern, one that made me feel much closer to my Columbia Gorge home, where I recognized the kindness and generosity of those that were making this weekend possible. From the waitress at the restaurant who spoke with a slight southern twang and took care of us like a grandmother would, to the concierge at the inn who always asked how we were doing and remembered our faces so we never answered the same question twice, these people were genuinely warm and truly friendly.
The wedding went off without a hitch, at least not one that we noticed. The bride was stunning and the groom was everything my cousin has always been: stoic, calm, warm and gracious. The caterers, waiters, hotel staff, bar tenders and neighbors throughout the sites we visited helped to not only make the wedding a success, but they also helped to ease the tired and travel-addled minds of my fiancé and I, as well as the other guests I’m sure.
In just a few months these same family members will be traveling the same tiring and challenging distance to witness the wedding of my beautiful soon-to-be bride and me. We were reminded of this throughout the weekend as friends and family introduced us to other guests with, “These two are next,” followed by a congratulations and smile from a stranger. “Are you guys ready?” and “Only two more months!” were common starts to a conversation with my cousins, aunts and uncles.
I’ve been excited to marry Ann from the moment we met, but there was something that became even more apparent to me after last weekend: I’m also very excited to share my home here in the Columbia Gorge with my family and friends. I can’t wait for them to experience the outdoor lifestyle, the brown and green contrast of the Cascades in September, the mild summer nights. I can’t wait until I see the look on their faces, especially those who live in the bigger cities, when a complete stranger smiles and says “hello” when they pass on the sidewalk. I want to be there when a friendly neighborhood dog comes jogging up for a drop-in visit at their vacation rental. What will happen when lines of cars come to a halt to let them cross the street? Will they notice that we don’t honk our horns here unless it’s an emergency, or that it’s considered rude not to ask the person on the barstool next to you what his or her name is?
I think a lot of us, even those like me that weren’t born here, start to take some of this for granted. It becomes part of our daily routine to be kind, neighborly and hospitable. I have all the confidence in the world that my family—exhausted from travel and perhaps antagonized by the thousand of miles and dollars it takes them to get here—will find themselves cooled and calmed by the personalities, kindness and hospitality of those of us who live and work here in the Columbia Gorge. In Ohio I went from angry, tired and bitter to simply grateful that I could be part of my cousin’s wedding. My heart is warmed at the thought of those I hold near and dear experiencing that same transition here.
Tags: article, columbia gorge articles, Magazine Info, View From the Gorge, Wedding
