meeting of the tribes

A common complaint of book critics is that writers lard their works with too many unrealistic coincidences.

Readers Are smarter than that. They long ago learned that some critics seem to be devoid of life experiences. We have all experienced moments in life that seem almost impossibly coincidental -- but they happened.

Darrel and I had one yesterday. We stopped in Costco while we were in Bend buying supplies for Thanksgiving before the predicted winter storm blows through central Oregon this afternoon. We had just checked out and Darrel was pushing the cart toward the exit when I heard a familiar voice from the past.

It was Kirsten Raftshol (now Groener). Kirsten, Darrel and I had attended high school together in the Willamette Valley during the 1960s. She and her husband now live in Bend.

We spent a little time reminiscing in that holiday aura that makes every nostalgic conversation a little special. She very kindly said that she reads each of my essays. That was a very nice compliment. Considering the number of proofreading errors that show up in my published works, I am not certain I read all of my essays.

I have very fond memories of Kirsten and her family. I remember her as not only being a Christian, but as a person whose actions would cause others to note her virtues of kindness and her unconditional love of God and her neighbors.

As we were driving away, Darrel and I remarked on the coincidence of running into her. It was not the first time. We have seen Kirsten and her husband at Costco a few times since I moved to Mexico. But, even with that apparent frequency, the odds must be incredibly high. After all, I live in Mexico and am not a frequent customer of the Bend Costco.

I thought of Kirsten during another incident yesterday. We had stopped at Fred Meyer as part of our shopping errands for the day. As we were carrying our paper grocery bags across the parking lot, I noticed an SUV with a gaggle of stickers. That is the photograph at the top of this essay.

Stickers and signs are not unusual here. Bend is one of those towns where people proudly display their social and political beliefs and prejudices.

During the 41 years Darrel has lived in the Bend area, I have watched the politics of its residents change -- if bumper stickers are any barometer. It has gone from being a reliable Republican stronghold in the 1980s to a swing region. A lot of that is due to new residents migrating from California or the Willamette Valley.

The sticker that caught my attention was the one with the international "no" symbol imposed on a cross with the caption "bad religion." It is one of those stickers designed to be provocative -- like "Nuke the gay baby whales" or "Have you slugged your kid today?"

As we passed the SUV, I saw a rather prim older (you know, my age) woman sticking a post-it on the SUV's side window. Because we all deal in stereotypes, I had her pegged as a DAR-Women's Republican Club-church lady. Even I, who decry tribalism, fall into that prejudice.

When she pulled away, I noticed she had an aluminum fish and cross on the rear of her car. Those symbols convinced me post-it note she had left behind would be at best a reference to John 3:16, at worst a subtly vulgar attack concerning the anti-Christian bumper sticker.

It was nothing of the kind. This is what it said.

Indeed, the tire was low. Very low.

I had conjured up a political confrontation between two armed camps. Instead, it was simply a neighborly gesture from someone who was living her faith.

Just coincidentally, it reminded me of something Kirsten would do.