A white van stopped beside us as we walked down the road. The driver asked, “Where am I?”

John replied, “You’re on Qualla Road. Are you lost?”

“Just need to know where I am. Where am I?”

I judged the man to be in his 60s or 70s and hoped he wasn’t suffering from dementia. He pulled up a camera for us to see and mumbled something about back roads. John explained that he was in Jonathan Creek and that I-40 was to the right and Waynesville to the left.

He said, “Now I know where I am. Thank you.”

He drove on down the hill, but instead of going to the highway, he turned into Sorrell’s a few feet earlier. I wondered if he wasn’t satisfied with our directions, needed gas, or really knew where he was and went in for breakfast.

It should be etched on my face. People need to know that when they ask me a question, I want to know their life histories. “Where am I?” and “Back roads” don’t cut it.