THE WAY THINGS SHOULD BE

So after a busy day at Betws-y-Coed and Harlech Castle, Robin and I finished the day at two pubs in Conwy, the George & Dragon, and Ye Olde Mail Couch. There’s a reason we did two pubs in one night. Robin and I had gone in search of a pub that was televising the Manchester United match with Sevilla. Of course, we had seen the first leg in person, and wanted to watch the second leg in Sevilla, Spain on television. We had heard previously that the two pubs were known for showing Man U matches. We had been to the George & Dragon previously, so we went there.

We ordered some food, and they had a drink special so I got a BOGO on an English Fizz, a drink made with Torquay Gin and served over ice, with peppercorns. I don’t drink cocktails often, and they are usually whiskey-based when I do. My good friend George McFarley is an avid gin aficionado, so I got these drinks in his honor. Yeah, that’s why…

As Robin and I ate, a group of gentlemen sat down at the table next to ours. They are very friendly, and introduced themselves to us. Gary, Kevin, Eric and Andre were their names. Gary was a latecomer to Conway, and was the youngest of the group. The other three were all 78 years old, and had lived in Conwy their whole lives. Andre was actually born within the town walls, and so was referred to as a ‘Jackdaw’. If you don’t know, the Jackdaw is the smallest of the Raven family. They have a silver face, and orange-rimmed eyes that sparkle with intelligence. One had visited me our first morning in Conwy.

Andre was certainly the most talkative of the group. The first thing he did was to ask Robin and I if we had ever heard of “trout tickling“. We assured him we had not, and sensed a trap by the locals for visitors. He then proceeded, in great detail and gusto, to describe the process, including the motion with his fingers that he used to put the trout into a trance. He would then grab the trout by the gills and pull it out. Eric leaned in and said with a smile, “It’s quite illegal.” Andre then showed us a trout he had caught with his hands. It was at this point that Robin and I knew we were in the presence of authentic Welshmen.

We had heard that the Welsh were a friendly, laid-back, mystical people. Everything we had heard, and more, was proven true by our meeting with Gary, Kevin, Eric and Andre. They openly accepted two Yanks like old friends, shared their lives with us, listened as we told a bit about ourselves, and generally had a great time. Eric got up to leave after a bit. His wife was “not doing well”, and he was going to be with her. The looks I saw from the others told me that “not doing well” was the Welsh way of saying she was in hospice care. My heart went out to him, that, even in his pending grief, he had come to share time with his mates, and with his two new mates from the States.

I sat back and listened to the conversation. Usually, I am the more outgoing one, and Robin sits back to listen to my stories and interactions. She seemed to be connecting with the group, so I let her lead the conversation. Andre told several stories, and Eric, Kevin and Gary were quick to let Robin know when Andre’s story was ‘teirw’, i.e. bullshit. I could tell by the mischievous glint in Andre’s eyes when he was talking. The Irish would call it blarney, the Welsh call it “adrodd stori”, story telling.

One of the things Eric shared with us before he left was that “pub” was short for “public building”. It was a place where people could gather, share news, share stories, and basically interact. A pub is a microcosm of the society at large. Everyone has a story. That story has good and bad parts. It has catastrophes, calamities, celebrations and wonders. Those stories get woven together into a small subplot in the story of a community. Everyone knows the regulars. In Welsh pubs strangers are welcomed, and become part of the pub’s tapestry. Robin and I felt very much a part of it, due to Gary, Kevin, Eric and Andre.

Kevin told us of his visit to the states. He visited the Grand Canyon, Texas, and Michigan, where he stayed with family for a couple of weeks. He was impressed with how big the US was. He really liked Texas. Gary was from County Yorkshire in England. He was slightly younger than Robin and I, so he was about 25 years younger then the other men. Robin grew up in a rural farm in southern Indiana, so she was clearly with her people. For once, I had the pleasure of seeing her interact with others in a relaxed atmosphere, without my customary practice of making myself a major player in any conversation. I really liked watching her animatedly talk with others. She is very intelligent, yet does not talk down to others.

We were well into our conversation when we learned that George & Dragon was not showing the soccer match that evening. Every Thursday Night was Trivia Night, and at the George & Dragon, that was a big deal. It was why Gary, Kevin, Eric and Andre had come. Hearing that there would be no Manchester United match shown, Robin and I reluctantly said our good byes and headed to Ye Olde Mail Coach to catch the match. Eric and there others warned us that the crowd at Ye Olde Mail Coach was a “rougher crowd” but that we would be OK. That was good, because I’m not afraid to start an international incident in defense of my wife or myself.

We walked the two blocks to Ye Olde Mail Coach. When we entered we saw two things. They were certainly showing the match, and Sevilla had already scored a goal. Stunned, we found a small table, got our drinks; Guinness for me and a water for Robin. As the match wore on, it became clear that somewhere during the trip top Sevilla, aliens had kidnapped the Manchester United team and replaced them with replicas manufactured in China. In a winner-takes-all match, they were slow, lethargic and ineffectual. They ended up losing 3-0. I only had the one Guinness, but certainly felt like I needed something stronger. Robin and I agreed; we would have been better off staying at the George & Dragon and playing trivia. Robin and I usually slay at trivia games, as were are both vast repositories of usually useless knowledge.

As for Ye Olde Mail Coach, I feel the need to explain “rougher” crowd. The clientele at the George & Dragon were older, and appeared to be more restrained in their behavior. Ye Olde Mail Coach’s clientele was younger, and a bit more boisterous. No one was confrontational or even hinted at animosity. They were there to drink, and to have a good time. There was a group of about 10 people in an area above where Robin and I were sitting watching the match. One of them would occasionally yell out, the laughter was loud and unrestrained, and one woman in particular was laughing and singing. She reminded Robin and I of a Jeff Foxworthy bit where he said of a woman who was dancing on the table singing, “Her top is coming off before the end of the night.” A different crowd but still Conwy, still Welsh.

It occurred to me after Robin and I returned to our townhouse that it seems that perhaps this is missing here in the US. I’ve been to several here in my town of Speedway. The crowds appear different. The goal seems more to consume alcohol than to connect. We seek to numb what we feel, rather than share with others what is going on. We could do with more story telling. Having to differentiate when someone is engaging in teirw or adrodd stori can be entertaining, especially when the person also shares actual stories. Interactions like that engage the brain, it connects you to the story teller, and the others that are listening, and sharing stories themselves.

Robin and I could tell that Gary, Kevin and Andre were sharing Eric’s pending grief. Eric knew that whatever happened, his mates would be there to share his grief. That sense of camaraderie cannot be underestimated. The family is the foundational building block for a society. The next most powerful thing are the friendships developed between families. This creates a sense of society, a coming together of groups of families as a community. Pubs are important to that. The guys said as much during our conversation, and they are not wrong. Smartphones and the Internet have our heads bowed down looking at small screens. We go online to seek community, while withdrawing from our actual community. The next time you are out in public, look around. See how many people are staring down into their phones. How many are talking with others? When someone walks by, do they acknowledge you with a nod, a smile, or a greeting, or is the eye contact fleeting as they see an obstacle, go past the obstacle and look back down at their smartphones? Solitary existence is not a sound tenet of a healthy society. It is anti-social behavior.

I used to be a member of the Speedway Lions Club, a philanthropic organization that had meetings twice a month. We met, we conducted civic improvement projects, coordinated social events like Trunk or Treat at Halloween, built a large gazebo at one of our parks that is used for a summer concert series, and other civic-minded projects. It caused us to interact socially, and we came to gather to make our community better. I left the organization because I had a lot of irons in the fire at that stage of my life. I may look at rejoining them now that I am semi-retired.

Are you participating in any similar organizations? How about a church group? Sing in the choir, the Rotary Club, the Knights of Columbus, any number of established groups. Get involved. Help out the needy, work with others to make your community better. Connect. Don’t look inward, look outward. People often look inward to “find themselves”. You find yourself in the service to others. You find yourself when you discover your place in the community.

Don’t waste a lot of time looking at your phone. Go to a pub. Gary, Kevin, Eric and Andre, or people like them, will be waiting. Lift a glass together and say, “Lloniannau! (Cheers!)”

And beware of teirw. It’s out there.