Different
Who would have thought that Easter picnics are a family tradition for thousands?
It was a beautiful day yesterday, probably hit 72. It was too warm for socks, but I knew I’d be going to work later, where you need extra socks, mittens and a portable heater to survive.
Let’s have a picnic, Heather says. We can bring your spinach artichoke dip.
I’m always up for dip. So I put together the guts, and we decide we’re going to drive to a park we’ve been meaning to check out. Near our new neighborhood, which would also give us an excuse to see if you could see the mountains from there.
And you could see the mountains. It’s rare to see them anyway, but you always stand a better chance during the fall and spring, and probably after a rain, when the smog has been cleared away.
The mountains were glorious. You could see the foothills and the mountains at the same time, which finally hit home for me what the difference between the two.
The answer to whether you can see the mountains from our new apartment complex is no. Too many trees, apartment buildings in the way. But if you turn the corner, oh yes, you can.
In snow-capped glory.
And if you drive from a higher elevation on a clear day, you can see the mountains stretching along much of the horizon. Awe-inspiring, and a little depressing to think that we’ll rarely see them.
Anyway, back to Easter picnics. We head up to this nice park, and see that there is a police officer directing traffic, and a sign warning of delays for getting into the park. We decide we want to have no part of going to a park that crowded.
We find a little park still in the same area, near a school, that is also crowded with people. I think, oh, maybe we can go to the park near the zoo, but instead we settle at this park.
And it’s a good thing we did. When I got to work, the main story for my front page was on the unofficial start of the park season (and car show season, Dad). And how each year, all the big parks (including the one near the zoo) are so filled that they often have to be closed to traffic and parking for a while.
We had no idea that people would picnic on Easter. Then we realized the reason people do it here is because it’s already very nice.
And at home, it’s usually cold. Certainly not warm enough to picnic. Maybe barbecue if someone is feeling adventurous, but then you go back inside.
So we chalked that one up on the board of things that they do differently here.
As one of my bosses said to me last night, yes, this definitely isn’t the Midwest.
And while I agreed with him with a laugh, and decided I was grateful I wasn’t in the Midwest, I also had a pang. A corn-field filled pang. Because this isn’t the Midwest, and I feel like such a hick.
And I wonder if I should keep from sharing difference observations with people at work.
This is brand new for me, too. And it smacks a bit too much of something that might show up in a film with Dick van Dyke and/or Julie Andrews (I don’t know–something out of Mary Poppins). I’m both horrified and touched by its sweetness.
I’m feeling schizophrenic lately.
Trust me, Mel, the corn fields will get along just fine without you. And don’t feel badly about noticing and/or commenting on the differences. There’s no shame because you are used to the Midwest. What’s great about it is that you probably appreciate your surroundings more than the people you’re relaying these observations to do.
My family had an Easter cookout last year. Not exacty a “picnic,” but much the same. You cook outside, you eat outside. That was in West Virginia. So I don’t think there is anything particularly odd or Dyke-ey about it. It was too chilly this year, so we ate inside, but we still went outside for an Easter egg hunt.
Todd, maybe watch Victor/ Victoria instead of Mary Poppins. At least for me in Be, which in Flanders looks a lot like MI (especially the province of Limbourg which is flat like mid-MI), I have moments of feeling like at home all the while knowing I’m not at home. At moments, I think the landscape is cross-dressing or something.
I guess I’ll get over it. As Shel points out, I do appreciate it a lot more than the natives, or even people that have been here for a while.
I don’t want to take mountains for granted, or fruit trees, or any of the other things that I’m either repulsed or fascinated by.
But I guess I might not share the differences with people as often.
That’s a real struggle though (and linked to the da vinci code discussion at lunablue, btw)….how do we keep things real, alive, and not naturalize them so they no longer have any glory?
People always think you are goofy when you point out the marvelous. oh well.
Even if you become more hesitant to make your observations at work, please don’t stop making them here. We are you friends — old and new — and we wouldn’t come here if we didn’t care what you think. I, as one of your new colleagues, and a former midwesterner myself, appreciate being reminded of why I have stayed here longer than anywhere else I have lived. Have you seen a bottlebrush tree/bush yet? It’s quite exotic.
Thanks, Papillon. I don’t know if it’s sometimes I talk too much, or what. So every once in a while, I feel like maybe I should be quieter and not sound so, ooh, but we didn’t have that at home.
But I appreciate your encouragement. I’ll surely continue to write here, and knowing me, won’t be able to keep my mouth shut at work, either. Not for long, anyway.
Haven’t seen a bottlebrush tree yet. I’ll have to look one up to see what they look like.
Another thing that I think is funny is random cactuses, just a huge bunch of them, sometimes just sitting in front yards.
There was a Sunday last month when the afternoon high hit 64 degrees. We decided to take a picnic lunch down to the Riverwalk in Naperville (Did we take you there? If not, I apologize). It was really glorious in early March to be able to lay back by the river and let the sun hit your face.
As for the difference between the Midwest and California, I feel very out of sorts at times out there. Mostly because of things people do, but that conversation is for another time.
No, you didn’t take me to Naperville. Ah well.
You will come visit, won’t you?
When you come to visit me here someday, I can show you around to the pretty parks. And mountains.
Beautiful weather when it’s unexpected is something to treasure.
And please, do share your differences either here, or by e-mail. I’d be interested to know what you think, since you married a Californian.