More than mere ritual, this ancient form of greeting is
still the way rural residents acknowledge passersby as neighbors, their
shared space as closely knit community.
Do we know him?� I asked my
wife.
�Who?�
�That guy back there. The one working in his garden,� I
replied. We were traveling a raggedy backroad in Highland County in the
mid-1990s, looking for a few acres of bargain property, with a mountain
view, a stream or, ideally, both.
�No,
I don�t think so,� she said.
After all, it was one of our early trips to Virginia�s
least-populous county, whose 2,300 full-time residents live in one of the
most pristine, precious and pretty pockets of the Commonwealth.
Highland County definitely isn�t Back to the Future. It�s
decidedly Back to the Past, in magical, memorable ways.
So while the chances that we knew the gardener were
remote, the chances that he knew us were even more so.
But still, he waved. To us. And not just a wind-whipped
sheet wave. No � a genuine, friendly hand held high.
This simple gesture normally would have been akin to
seeing a field of fireflies, a small child�s smile, or a falling star � a
fond, fleeting snapshot, a caboose forgotten in the long train of such
moments since.
But it stuck, because it�s been repeated, over and over.
While driving over Shenandoah Mountain into Headwaters. Over Bullpasture
Mountain into McDowell. Over Jack Mountain into Monterey. Over many mountain
roads and down valley byways, over many years, The Wave has been repeated
and reinforced.
To paraphrase the Good Book, our family increasingly
lifted its eyes unto these Highland hills, and in so doing we moved from
tourists to regular visitors to part-time residents. Along the way, the
hoped-for and almost-always-delivered greeting became a fond and frequent
reference around our family dinner table, a cherished touchstone we revisit
most often when we�re not there.
At some point, The Wave became The Highland Wave.
The Highland Wave is not audacious in its intensity, nor
protracted in its length. But it�s a clear, conscious acknowledgment of a
neighbor, or prospective neighbor. It�s also an acknowledgment of shared
humanity, an appreciation for the power of place, and an important reminder
of the sanctity of community.
While widely practiced there, it�s not unique to Highland
County. As a shared community act, though, The
Wave seems largely limited to rural areas, especially in the South and
Midwest.
It�s most often practiced as two drivers approach on a
rural road, each raising a forefinger on the left hand, the balance of the
fingers remaining wrapped around the steering wheel. Now, of course, there
are individual variations as well. Some drivers prefer a two-fingered wave,
some a four, only rarely a three, as it�s harder to raise the forefinger,
middle finger and ring finger, while keeping the pinkie and thumb on the
wheel.
I�ve tested the near-exclusivity of this practice to
rural areas in countless drives through my suburban neighborhood in
Chesterfield County, and in cities, large towns and sprawling suburbs in
multiple states during business and pleasure trips. I�ll wave at an oncoming
driver. The response is usually, well � nothing. The other driver never
looks at me, never sees me.
Sometimes, the other driver will look confused and
hurriedly fling up a late wave, much like a batter swinging late and barely
fouling off a pitch to stay alive on a 3-2 count.
Often, if the other driver notices The Wave, there�ll be
a look of suspicion, or amusement. Only rarely, The Wave will be returned
with a knowing smile, and an imagined thought bubble saying something like,
�Wow, this is really a friendly neighborhood!�
And in the end, that�s really the point. Most rural
enclaves, small towns and backroads farming communities ARE friendly
neighborhoods. Neighborhoods whose residents look out for one another, help
one another, care for and about one another.
One of the seven principles that
guide all cooperative businesses is �concern for community.� It�s what drove
the creation of Virginia�s electric cooperatives in the 1930s and �40s, as
neighbors joined together to provide themselves with a much-needed service
that no one else was willing or able to provide.
That neighborliness lives on today, as more than mere
ritual, in The Wave.
In these dog days of August, in a world filled with
unending calamity and chaos, wars and woes, it�s important to wave to your
neighbor. And to remember the power and the glory of such a simple act.
So, next time you�re out driving, think about offering
The Wave to a passing motorist, relaxed porch-sitter, roadside stroller or
backyard gardener.
They just may happily return The Wave, making their day
and yours.
