When I was a little kid, my parents would take us visiting.

It could be in any familial configuration: Mother/daughter, parents/children, etc., but people would go the homes of friends and acquaintances and sit in their living rooms, partake of their refreshments, and just shoot the breeze.

Judging from known milestones in time, I would have to say I was doing this on my own by about the age of six, around 1969 or 1970.

We had some next door neighbors, Stella and Mike, who had a kid-magnet in the form of an old English sheepdog named Harry. I remember, vividly, knocking on the door and being invited in to talk. I can tell you the layout of the house, and describe part of the decor. Stella and Mike were super-cool, having a highly lacquered wooden cable spool as a coffee table, and a "guest room" of purple inflatable pool mattresses. Mike drove a convertible Porsche, and although Harry was happy to go for a walk on his leash, he was even happier to see Mike come home.

Lest you think this was just some poor woman tolerating me, Stella, who took ceramics classes, made me a really nice little wall hanging with little purple dried flowers. This was not simple tolerance for some bratty kid coming over, this was real visiting! You don't have to believe me though.

When we traveled to Scotland as children, or visited family friends in the United States, we were always welcomed and treated as well as our parents were treated. We would sit and talk to grown ups. They would talk to us.
More often than not, upon our leaving at the end of the evening, we were presented with a gift of some sort, perhaps money to purchase a treat, perhaps an extravagant gift of chocolate. We ate the same food that the grown ups ate, and for the most part, sat at the same table.

One of the nicest couples I have ever met in my life, Gertrude and Ed Patterson, lived in Tucson, AZ and had been friends with my grandparents for years. They had no children of their own. As far back as I can remember, we visited them. I remember the floor plan of their home in the 1960s. I remember the floor plan of the mobile home that they lived in later, and I remember the furniture and its placement. They always had an electric vibrating recliner. They've been gone for over 30 years, but I remember them and always will. I searched for their gravesites the last time I was in AZ, and while I didn't find them in time, I will visit their graves next time. I would even make a special trip to visit their grave sites. Maybe after tax season I will go.

When we traveled to Scotland with my mother, we would visit her friends and relatives, and her mother's friends. I loved going over to my Aunt Sadie's house with or without my mom. Aunt Sadie's husband was Uncle Bill, and they were fabulous people. They had a dog named Roddy, and although I cannot say what type of dog Roddy was, I know he was an awesome jumper and was likely not neutered and was probably hated by other dog owners in the area. Aunt Sadie's electric meter was in a cupboard to the right as you walked in the front door, and one would drop coins into it as needed.

When in Scotland, my mother would always make it a point to visit Mrs. Watson. Mrs. Watson was a friend of my grandmother's, who became a friend of my mother's later in life. The last time I was in Scotland, I traveled alone. My mother told me to be sure to visit Mrs. Watson. I was given Mrs. Watson's address, and I dutifully went to her home, sat on her couch and ate delicious cucumber and tomato sandwiches. It was wonderful.

I can tell you the surnames of every family that we ever had as neighbors. I can almost give you addresses. Tonight, I pulled out carved animals and little wooden dolls from Japan that I received as a small girl from family friends. I recalled having chicken pox and adults bringing me diversions because they cared. And I remember a kimono from Alice Niiya, and these wooden dolls and animals, and the color of her house and her husband's name was Tak (for short) and he worked at the botanical gardens as a horticulturist. I remember taking shoes off in their home without question and the bonsai tree on their coffee table, and the floor plan of their home.

These days, even as an adult, I don't always feel welcome visiting. I can't imagine LD going off for a visit, knocking on someone's door, and going in for a chat. I get bad vibes enough expecting her to say please and thank you, and talking to adults or taking interest in others is pretty close to abuse in this day and age. I really think people are making children socially retarded these days.

A few years ago, we attended a very small church, and while visiting with a family after church, the parents told us that their child was very shy and made excuses for her. This teenager was smiling hugely and sitting on the top of the car. They pretty much told us that she didn't speak, and to be honest, we didn't believe it for a moment.

Today, we visited David's aunt, and I confided that we were trying to get LD to care about other people and to actually listen to others, and not to leave the room to play with animals or to wrestle with dad, and I did hear the comment that L.D. is only 12. When I explained my own background, David's aunt asked how many times I had been molested, doing all that visiting. Zero, I replied.

I wonder if LD could relate the details of childhood friends and neighbors the way I can 35 years later. I doubt it. She hasn't been taught to look past her own nose, and when someone encourages it, half of the people think it is mean to do so and the other half think it is a novelty.