Friendly Seas — Sabeeha Rehman

“We would love to go on a cruise, but only if our friends can join us,” my friend said.
“It will be no fun if it’s just the two of us,” her husband said.
“You will be surprised, how much fun it can be, just the two of you. Believe me, we have gone with friends, family, and all by ourselves. When you are with friends, you tend to hang out together, which is great. But when you are by yourselves, you look for new friends and get to meet some of the most interesting people.”

I told them the story of the dairy farmers. In 2011, Khalid and I were on a cruise to Nova Scotia. It was lunchtime and, tray in hand, we were looking for an empty table in the buffet area. I walked back and forth, and then a tall, slim man wearing glasses leaped up from his chair and said, “Please, join us.” He pointed to the two empty seats and the woman sitting next to him, whom I presumed was his wife.
“Oh! Thank you,” and we placed our heavy trays at the table.
“I am Sabeeha,” and we went around introducing ourselves.
“Where is home?” Classic icebreaker on cruise ships.
“Bliss, New York,” said John.
Now, dear readers, have you, any of you, heard of Bliss?
“Where is that?” I asked, not embarrassed to reveal my ignorance.
“It's in Western New York, fifty miles southeast of Buffalo,” Mary said. “It’s a small farm country. We are dairy farmers, retired now.”
“Dairy farmers!” Khalid and I exclaimed. The excitement in our high-pitched voices made heads turn.
We had never met a dairy farmer. It felt as though we had struck gold. Peppering them with questions, we delved into farming, organic farming, livestock, dairy…you name it. We couldn’t get enough of ‘all we wanted to know about dairy farming but had never asked.’ This warm, sweet and friendly couple humored us.
“Well, the next time you are in the neighborhood, come visit us,” John said.
“As a matter of fact, we just might,” I said, pulling out my phone and scrolling through my calendar. “How is September 15 around noon?” I asked.
We were planning to drive to Canada to visit family, and a small detour was worth getting to experience a dairy farm.
“It’s a date,” said Mary, clapping her hands.
And that was the beginning of a new and lasting friendship.

As September drew close, we were giddy with excitement. You’d think we were going to the moon. Anyhow, we drove to Bliss. Deep into the countryside, we drove along and turned into their driveway that led all the way up to their farmhouse. Mary and John took us on a tour of their barn, the Calf Hatches with the baby calves—they now raise cows for the market—we met their goats, gazed up at the newly installed windmills – a bit noisy—rode on the tractor, gaped in awe at the sap oozing out of the maple tree, checked out the no-longer-in-use milking machinery, the equipment shed, and inhaled the dung-infused aroma in the heavenly fresh air. I was in heaven, blissful in Bliss. Mary showed me her garden with fragrant red roses, Hydrangeas in all colors, and took us into their house—I don’t know why I thought that a farmhouse would look any different from a regular non-farmhouse, except that it felt like a ‘come in and make yourselves comfortable’ welcoming feeling. What was noticeable was the abundance of fresh flowers, right from the garden. We sat at the table covered in a floral-print table cover in their sun-lit kitchen and lunched over roast-beef sandwiches dripping in gravy, corn on the cob, and garden fresh veggies. It was the best home-cooked—sorry, farm-cooked—farm-grown everything meal I had. I was charmed.
“We have never been to New York City,” Mary said over lunch.
“Come, come, and stay with us. We have a guest room with a private bath,” I said, pulling out my calendar.

The following year, Mary and John came to stay with us in New York. We did all the touristy stuff: Bethesda fountain in Central Park, hot chocolate in Bryant Park, Rockefeller Center; waved at Miss Liberty from the Staten Island Ferry, rode the buses, subways, and cabs, and walked, walked and walked. Mary told me that when they informed their family that they would be visiting New York City, they was apprehensive, because ‘New York City is not a safe place.’
It’s a good thing Mary didn’t say: ‘And we are staying with a MUSLIM couple.’

A few years later, they visited again. This time, we went on a luncheon cruise in New York Harbor and then took a cab to the Upper East Side to attend the last hour of Yom Kippur services. When the Rabbi had called to invite us, I excused myself, saying that I had out-of-town guests and would be on a river cruise at that time. “Come after the cruise. I will pay for the cab.” I bet this was a first for John and Mary, and like the perfect guests that they were, they went along with our plans.

Bliss happens to be just a two-hour drive from Chautauqua Institution, a place we visit every summer. So, on our way to Chautauqua, we would make a lunch stop at Bliss. I got to climb the silo, drive their tractor, and even stayed overnight one summer on our drive back.
One summer, we got a call from a woman who introduced herself as Jenny, Mary, and John’s daughter.
“I was going through my parents’ Rolodex and found you there. I am planning a surprise 50th anniversary celebration for them and would love for you to attend. Mom and Dad often talking about their ‘Pakistani friends.’
Of course, we went.

A few years back Jenny got married, and we got to meet her handsome husband. Driving to Bliss was our summer routine. That is, until we gave up our car and started taking Delta airlines.

Now, every summer we pick a date, and Mary and John drive out to Chautauqua on a Sunday and spend the day with us. We have lunch by the lakeside, take walks, stop for ice-cream, ride the trolley, watch a ballet performance in the amphitheater, check out the art exhibits, the outdoor markets, and just hang out. It’s become a summer ritual. We love them and I think they like us too.

And it all started when a gentleman in the buffet area offered us a seat at the table, on a cruise to Nova Scotia.

[Stay tuned for the next episode of Friendly Seas]