Faith In Strangers

Pat Morrissey Jackson and I met in 2024 at an election training event and realized that we have a lot in common. Both of us have done a lot of volunteering and have lived and worked in Mexico. And we also both believe in the power of travel.

Pat describes herself as a wise, nearly 72-year-old woman, who is from a large Irish family with 14 kids. Her parents used to joke that they brought the wrong baby home from the hospital because as she grew up, her skin tanned easily, she learned to speak Spanish fluently, and she has always loved Mexican food. Pat lived and worked in Mexico for two years in the 80s, and thereafter returned to Mexico, Guatemala, and Peru as a medical volunteer.

So, I often say that if I were Queen of the World, I would make all young people travel somewhere culturally different to learn to see the people rather than just the headline news about a place. Pat agrees.

"People who don't travel have no idea what the rest of the world is like and how incredibly beautiful and generous and trusting and kind folks are [in other countries]," she says.

When she read that I wanted to share stories that celebrate immigrants, she offered up this one:

About 20 some years ago when I was living in Hockessin, Delaware with my husband and two sons, my in-laws came to visit. The men decided to go out to golf just across the Pennsylvania border. My sister-in-law, who was quite an amazing athlete, and I decided that we would bike up there and meet them, about 12 to 15 miles away.

My younger son, Mike, who was maybe 13 decided he was going to join us. Considering Ann and I were both avid athletes and Mike really wasn't, we agreed, but I tried to give him a little coaching ahead of time like get some kind of fuel in your body and pack water and such.

So off we went biking through White Clay Creek, and there are some very serious hills. I'm quite sure that Mike figured if these two "old women" could do this, he could. But, no he couldn't. As we were biking up a massive hill, I looked over to see Mike looking grayish white, faltering, and then keeling over on the side of the road, thankfully onto some grass.

We stopped and happened to be right outside a mushroom farm in the Avondale area. Mike looked like a ghost, so we got him out of the sun and into the shade inside the facility's courtyard. Then I went looking for someone to speak to about whether there was juice available.

I met a lovely Mexican man who said he, too, had kids and completely understood. He showed me where there was a vending machine with juice and made us comfortable in the shade under a tree. When we explained our predicament, that is, trying to meet up with the guys at the golf course up the road, he apologized because a huge shipment of mushrooms was due shortly and he would not be able to give us a ride up there. Instead, he thrust his car keys at me and said to please use his truck because he couldn't leave the premises at this point.

I ask you, what American would give their keys to a complete stranger to drive away in their vehicle without any kind of assurances?

I tried to offer him some cash for this incredible gift, but of course he refused it and just went on his way to do his job. We bundled into the truck with our bikes and drove up to the golf course to catch up with the guys and explained the situation.

Later we returned to the mushroom farm in Kaolin, returned the man's truck, and left the keys in the vehicle as he requested along with a gift to say, "Muchísimas gracias!" 

His empathy and understanding of what it's like to be a parent with a child in a challenging situation touched my heart, she says. "Yes—it's 20 some years later, and I still remember this. How could I not?"