A Blog by Joyce Miller
We’ve often heard the phrase, ‘in the middle of nowhere.’ Now, think about a town in the middle of nowhere. That nowhere has to be somewhere, right? And a town implies more than one person existing there.
But it’s an expression, and that expression often implies that a town is really out of the way from the main roads. How does a town, a village, or any such place be known to exist ‘in the middle of nowhere?’
Well, there is one connection that happens to be the perfect bridge between the isolated town and the rest of the world, whether that bridge is between a town and a city, or between multiple scattered towns like that of Norfolk and the like.
That connection existed in the nomad, more often called the pedlar. It was not a new trade in this past century, and was still not anything new another century before it. It’s one of the oldest professions in the world, and one of the most necessary.
For centuries, pedlars were far more than just traveling salesmen; they were a vital link to the outside world. They brought essential goods, news from distant friends, and a spark of excitement to isolated country folk.
They were a kind of ‘superstores’ of their eras, bringing all sorts of goods that farmers and country folk rarely got. Pedlars weren’t just from an adjacent city or the cities nearby, but wanderers. That’s why the word ‘nomad’ is used for them. They were travelers, and from places far and wide. That meant a huge amount of variety, but there was another thing they bought that even modern supermarkets cannot; connection.
Pedlars brought a connection to the outside world. They relayed news, often messages from friends and family who might be from the towns and villages they have come through. For many, it was the only way for them to be able to purchase Christmas presents that felt truly presentable and unique. We can easily say today that this and that was imported from another country, but imagine doing that when vehicles, airplanes, and all that didn’t exist. Trains did, yes, but not in remote towns which didn’t have the foot traffic to demand train tracks.
We have bridged the gap the bridge provided, in a way. Each family member is text message away. Each town is a few hours drive away at most. Distance between countries is shorter than ever. And the joy and uniqueness of being a nomad is lost.
Maybe this story of Yesterday’s Child will remind us of that and more, of a time that hardly anyone remembers anymore. Maybe that will connect us together, nomads from all around the world coming together to experience one story.