Chester's Welcome—A Lovely Reprieve

 

The first dog who Chester, my dog, encountered in Chester, Nova Scotia, was named… Chester. We had arrived minutes before and while I gathered bags to carry them to our lodging above a mercantile, a bulldog and its owner sashayed by. Chester met Chester in Chester. It’s silly to select one’s holiday destination by the name of one’s dog, but I knew nothing about any of the small towns sited up and down the outer shores of Nova Scotia, Canada. They were pinpricks on a map to me. Chester got his first whiff of the two Chesters and it set his butt a-wagging.

The town of Chester is a fishing village with an annual sailing regatta and a summer tourism season. Late September was the “tail-end” of its season. Some shopkeepers spoke of closing up in the coming week. My dog and I were there for the last wag. I was in need of it.

I had been traveling for a month. I crossed the North American continent with the first half of the trip in Canada and the second half in the United States. My travels would extend into late fall or early winter, so I prepared for a slew of worrisome conditions: ticks, rain, snow, and ice. I worried about encountering smoke from the fires in mid-Canada; I even bought a dog’s respirator mask for Chester. The evening skies in Chester were colored by the smoke from a fire in a nearby Nova Scotia forest, but the fire was almost contained and one couldn't smell smoke. 

But then that dust storm was still blowing across the United States, causing grief everywhere, lasting far too long. No state left untouched. Dust storm? You might be thinking how did you miss that news? So, here is the gig. 

In the Bahá’í religion it is said that when a person uses his words to harm another person, they put dust on the heart of the person whom they intend to hurt and likewise put dust on their own hearts. In the U.S., listening to broadcasts, podcasts, or casual conversations—any political side or persuasion, this “dust” gets scattered with abandon. Uncivil signage on bumper stickers, t-shirts, and flags flicks it intentionally at any passing targets. We seem to be a country of civilians suffering from self-induced heavy hearts—insulted, angry, and unhappy. We are a country under duress, capable sometimes of dealing with it with humor, but so often instead with offensive language. Although the portion of my travels through the United States had been delightful and I had been with interesting and gracious people, I was feeling the effects of the unavoidable incivility. I arrived in Chester hoping for a dustless respite. 

Chester in his doggy way had no expectations beyond all the dogs he might meet be good dogs. Neither of us quite expected the reception we experienced. 

First off, I rarely passed anyone who didn’t speak to me. If they were walking in my direction, the conversation would be an extended one. Gracious. Casual. Friendly. Only twice, unsolicited, was there first an expression of sympathy about our American plight and then untoward disparaging remarks. 

The Kiwi Cafe was the epicenter of my Chester visit. Its kiwi green walls and welcome to all who entered made me feel warm-hearted. After hearing I had a dog, one waitress hurried out to meet him when later she saw me walking Chester. Another, advised me to take the commuter ferry to the Tancook Islands. On said ferry, an older island resident, a fisherman, engaged me in a lovely conversation; something that potentially in my country might have led to comments putting someone down.  

My birthday gift to myself—lobster eggs Benedict at the Kiwi Cafe

Chester's welcome for Chester was the best. He was offered a treat at every counter, even at the post office where he got a handful of bites from the postal clerk, who then proceeded to call the other clerks from the back room to meet the new Chester! He developed a habit of heading for any counter in sight. Chester taught Chester the way of a civil world. Even he noticed a difference; his heart singing at every counter encounter. No disaster in Chester. No dust on his heart, nor mine.