Culture Shock -- On the Way to Meeting Verna Towne

On my first day in the United States, staying at Grandpa Art and Grandma Verna Towne’s home, I followed my husband outside to see Verna in the hospital. I stepped from the house into a snow-covered, much too large yard. I blinked into the bright January sunshine and stopped short.

“The sun is shining on the snow,” I said. “I need some sunglasses.”

Gary laughed. “We get sunshine a lot. Let’s go to the drugstore first and get you some glasses.”

“The drugstore? Isn’t that the store where you get medicine? Can you buy glasses there too?”

“Yes. It’s not like in Germany. You can buy all kinds of things there.”

He helped me into his father’s car. The older Mr. Towne had already gone to work at Mesa Verde, where he was the maintenance foreman. I assumed he had taken the train or a bus, until Gary said, “Dad took the truck so you won’t have to struggle to get in, with your belly.”

“I suppose there’s no bus or train that could take him to work?”

“There isn’t. I’ll show you where he works on the way back from the hospital. But first let’s go see Mom. The doctor said she could go home in a few days, but she can’t wait to meet you.”

Gary pulled onto the main street of the small town his family lived in.

I stared out the window and forgot to breathe.

The buildings along the road all were low, two stories at the most, and there was so much unused space between them. I felt like we were swimming through emptiness.

 Mancos, Colorado, still looks like this.

  We left town and drove on to Cortez, but it didn’t get any better. Trees and what seemed unused fields lined the road, all covered with the brilliant snow, made even more bright by the relentless sun in a truly blue, cloudless sky. Even the sky looked different here, not the washed out, smoggy blue I was used to. I felt like I had been transported to Mars, or some other, unknown planet. 

Tomorrow, I'll talk about meeting Verna Towne for the first time.