Stopping by Wawa

Wawa is the Lenape word for goose. In my part of the world it is the name of a town, a dairy and now a convenience store. On my way to the mill this morning I stopped at the Wawa to pick up something for lunch. Usually I wear jeans and a polo shirt but this morning I was wearing a blue print short gown, a scarlet petticoat that came to my ankles and a linen cap and apron. It’s fun to watch people try not to stare. Very seldom does anyone ask me why I am dressed this way. Once a man tried to talk to me in German, but I don’t speak or understand it. A bagger at the local grocery calls me “Amish” if I am in period clothing and doesn’t recognize me if I am in regular street clothes. These clothes are not even close to what the Amish wear, but the thing that stands out to people is “odd” not any of the many varies of odd. People are excessively polite when I dress this way. I get waited on more quickly; I am often asked if I would like to move up in line. I have the habit of saying “good morning” to people and they always nod back. I am never ignored.
One time a man with his daughter came up to me in a grocery store and he said,” I know where you have been.”
“Where?” I asked.
“At the Civil War re-enactment in the park.”
His daughter tugged his sleeve and said, “Oh, no, Daddy, she’s from Greenbank.”
The girl had actually learned something on her school field trip. Good for her.