We live at the edge of the wave. Waving at neighbors, known or unknown, is not a universally accepted practice in my small town. But drive 15 minutes, turn onto a two-lane road and you will be waved at by ranchers and farmers you’ve never before seen.
In the city, where one learns to avert glances and study the sidewalk cracks, if a stranger were to wave, one is immediately suspicious: “Why is she waving at me? What’s up with that?” We draw into ourselves, put up our deflector shields and turn up our iPods.
In the rural west, a land of long, lonely highways stretching across vast expanses, an approaching vehicle is treated as a neighbor and appropriate acknowledgement is given. Sometimes it is accompanied by a small nod of the head. Smiling is not necessary, certainly not normal. Each person develops a personal style.
A side swipe through the air, fingers pressed together as the hand arcs.
The right thumb grips the wheel of the car and four fingers stand to attention for a brief moment.
If that requires too much effort, or demonstrates too much garrulousness, lift only the index finger off the wheel.
That last motion, the smallest output of energy, still communicates a powerful message: you are a fellow traveler on this journey through life and I notice you. It’s a friendly gesture left over from friendlier generations.
We are selective wavers. In town we wave and nod to acquaintances and friends. Except when we are mistaken. [Isn’t that the queerest feeling: enthusiastically waving to a friend and then discovering in a split second it’s not the one you expected? Oops!] But when we get out of town and off the interstate we waive our rights to isolation and blend in with the local hand-lifters. Yet, I still catch myself swiveling my head and quizzing my friendly husband, “Did you know that person?”
Do people wave where you live?
A Living Pencil 
What’s even worse is when someone honks at you – is it a friendly “hello” honk? or a “Get-the-heck-out-of-my-way” honk? My philosophy is, smile, wave and hope for the best!
I wave to cars in my neighborhood.
And, I totally related to your descriptions of *waves*
Now, a little friendly teasing….is it *wave* or *waive* OR *Leyster* or *Leister* Are you checking to see if we are reading closely? Well, I pay close attention to what you say, because I like it 🙂
Blessings fm GA,Dana
My husband is the consumate waver although not waverer. He is a southerner from GA but when we lived in NJ he insisted on waving. I used to tease him by pretending we were in a parade when we drove around. Now we are in Alabama. You can almost tell when we go over the county line around here. In my podunk county everyone waves cross over closer to Huntsville and all waving stops.
Oh Dana, I must be careful, eh? I saw that picture in “A History of Art for Young People” and it was attributed to Judith *Leyster*. Did you find it elsewhere spelled Leister? I was trying, unsuccessfully, to pun on wave and waive. To waive is to voluntarily reliquish a right, right? And a waiver is the document that gives evidence of such a decision. Ah well, keep trying.
The growth in our community has come, for the most part, from folks like us moving here from the San Francisco or Los Angeles areas. Combine urban unfriendliness with rural resentment at being overtaken by city folk, and you have plenty of hand gestures of the unpleasant sort. I was intimidated by it at first…but now I just smile or wave in spite of the gruff exterior. I figure everyone needs a little kindness. Even our super grouchy, “we own this whole hill” next door neighbors are starting to wave back…next year maybe a smile? Hope springs eternal (-:Happy Monday,Diane
Here in small-town-next-to-big-city Alabama, it’s about 50/50 waving to strangers. I try to wave.
Yup, we wave here in these parts ;0) I’ve resorted to the toothy grin and four-fingers-at-attention style because some of our roads are yet a bit icy. I continue the practice when I get to more civilized parts, but it quickly gets put into check. However, when walking or standing in line, as whenever we’re someplace larger than here, I don’t stop looking and smiling at the people. It makes one feel like an idiot, but really, we’re right there next to each other are you not supposed to acknowledge a person’s existance?
Oh, Bonnie, your words brought tears to my eyes. I WILL NEVER FORGET your smile the first Sunday in 1993 when we visited church and came late to SS. You turned around and grinned; it was so welcoming and inviting. Do keep smiling at people.