Becoming Minnesotan, I Am Becoming Minnesotan, I Really Think So
You guys. In this head, things are happening.
All of a sudden, in the past couple of months, I've been getting used to the idea of...
Wait for it...
Becoming a Minnesotan.
I mean, you guys. This is HUGE.
A year and 4 months ago, when we moved from New York to Minnesota, I was ready for the adventure but I told myself I'd NEVER let go of my New York sense of self. I would never change my cell phone number (long live nine-one-seveeeeen) and I would keep my last Metrocard in my wallet until it turned to dust. I had also successfully held onto my Michigan roots while living in New York (milk = melk, lollipop = sucker, "you think this is cold?") and didn't want that to be written over. I would never choose to say "hot dish" instead of "casserole" or "Duck, Duck, Gray Duck" instead of "Duck, Duck, Goose." If anyone asked, and even if they didn't, I'd say I just moved here from Brooklyn. Living there for 10 years was the biggest part of who I was and I wasn't going to let that go without a fight. Especially when moving to the land of "Minnesota Nice."
Fast forward to a couple of months after moving into our new house and I suddenly realized that I was starting to like Minnesota. I love my work, friends, house and neighborhood, and I think that somehow, enjoying these things was leading me to...(gasp!) enjoy my life.
There are still a lot of things that I often miss about living in Brooklyn:
So, yes. I will still hold on to my cell number, my Metrocard, and my Michigan-meets-Brooklyn sense of self. However, I will choose to appreciate my surroundings, instead of find fault with them. I will choose to embrace the temperatures, instead of complain about them. I will choose to support my son as he grows up Minnesotan, instead of fantasize how he would be growing up otherwise. And I may even (deep breath), choose to grasp on to the lingo, instead of push it away.
For after all, Minnesota has brought my family:
I will always miss the New York of my twenties and early thirties. But I'm going to allow Oliver to choose where he calls home - green grass, sprawling churches and close family or what he hears New York City has meant to his parents.
I'll gladly take that over teaching Ollie how to hail a cab.
All of a sudden, in the past couple of months, I've been getting used to the idea of...
Wait for it...
Becoming a Minnesotan.
I mean, you guys. This is HUGE.
A year and 4 months ago, when we moved from New York to Minnesota, I was ready for the adventure but I told myself I'd NEVER let go of my New York sense of self. I would never change my cell phone number (long live nine-one-seveeeeen) and I would keep my last Metrocard in my wallet until it turned to dust. I had also successfully held onto my Michigan roots while living in New York (milk = melk, lollipop = sucker, "you think this is cold?") and didn't want that to be written over. I would never choose to say "hot dish" instead of "casserole" or "Duck, Duck, Gray Duck" instead of "Duck, Duck, Goose." If anyone asked, and even if they didn't, I'd say I just moved here from Brooklyn. Living there for 10 years was the biggest part of who I was and I wasn't going to let that go without a fight. Especially when moving to the land of "Minnesota Nice."
Fast forward to a couple of months after moving into our new house and I suddenly realized that I was starting to like Minnesota. I love my work, friends, house and neighborhood, and I think that somehow, enjoying these things was leading me to...(gasp!) enjoy my life.
There are still a lot of things that I often miss about living in Brooklyn:
- Friends, of course...
- Riding the subway -
- without having to look at a map
- and answering questions from people huddled over the map
- and sharing secret eye rolls across the aisle with fellow passengers whenever the crazy boarded to sing, dance or preach (Des Colores!)
- and "accidentally" needling my fingers into someone's back who was leaning the entirety of his body against the only available pole on the car
- Complaining about "torr-ists" and hailing cabs
- Walking everywhere - the laundromat, the bar, the gym, Dunkin' Donuts, getting in and out stores easily
- Having a tiny apartment where I could proudly jerry-rig storage for all my stuff
- Working in Brooklyn where my office overlooked Lady Liberty and the bottom tip of Manhattan
- Knowing things like: not to shop at the South Street Seaport Gap (their clothes will always smell a little fishy), that I'm in for a walk when I see a horde of angry people exiting the subway (the train is going express), to brace myself when the train is about to lurch (so that I don't end up inadvertently collapsing a stroller or falling back onto a young woman's lap - the former was someone I saw and the latter, well, an old man's balls sat on my hands for about three seconds. Best three seconds of his life.)
- Knowing other things like where to find the best bar, manicure, bagel and bathroom in any part of town
- Reading books or articles and watching shows or movies that are set in New York and either recognizing their feelings, the backdrop, or both
- Walking past a celebrity or a movie set and being careful not to show too much interest (keep is cazh, keep it cazh but maybe they'll need an extra!!!)
- Buying $3 pashminas for everyone I knew because I had a warehouse hookup
- Cab rides - my own personal roller coaster!
- Being anywhere in the city (Central Park on a warm day, across from Astor Wines & Liquors, on the 1 platform), and running into someone I hadn't seen in a million years
- The best sausage and egg sandwiches from corner bodegas instead of chains
- The pride in saying that I lived in NEW YORK CITY!
Memories, memories...what was the point of this post?
Ah, yes.
At the beginning, I cried at Sesame Street because I missed the brownstones and streets. I couldn't log onto Facebook because reading that life in the city was going on without me was harder than I could ever believe. Imagining all of my friends and coworkers waking up in the morning and going on with their daily activities while I was sitting in someone else's house without a plan, without a job, without directions was unbearable. To top it off, my husband, God bless him, was reverting back into the child he was when he had lived in the house and was just kind of acting like a surly teenager. I was used to our life in New York and then we changed everything. For someone like me who craves independence and routine, loves itineraries and needs to know what the day and week was to hold, I felt scattered, broken and incredibly lost.
I kept reminding myself these four things:
- It didn't matter where my family was, just that we were together and healthy
- God knew what the plan was and had even giving us many signs that this was meant to be: my sister had moved to Minnesota the previous year which meant I could have my family around me, my parents-in-law were letting us stay in their house, Doug got a job right out of the gate, and He had even given us multiple God skies and a rainbow on our road trip out
- My husband was feeling just as lost and depressed as I was
- Things would fall into place eventually
But, let's be honest. There were many times that I didn't remember these things in time to stop my mouth. "DOUG! DO YOU WANT TO BATHE OLLIE, OR DO THE DISHES? BECAUSE I'M NOT DOING THEM BOTH!"
I knew that my persistence in living in the past was going to mess with my marriage. I couldn't get the idea out of my head that this wasn't permanent; that we weren't going to head back to our apartment in a matter of weeks. I would whisper to Doug at night about New York, people or places I was missing, and we'd both get really dispirited. And then one of us would remind the other to snap out of it, causing monstrous fights and unending silent treatments. Doug was embarrassed that he had lost his job and moved us to Minnesota - to live in his parents' basement. But I couldn't sympathize with him because I was so stuck in my own depression. I just really couldn't stomach the idea of my son and I being Minnesotans instead of New Yorkers.
Then I got a job, Ollie went to daycare and we bought a house. Slowly, slooooowly, I found myself starting to like the state without knowing it. I began waking up excited to go to work, and I would leave excited to get home and cook dinner for my family. On weekends I would love getting out to explore or meet up with friends. Doug and I started actually conversing like a husband and wife, instead of coworkers. We were liking each other more - asking for opinions and going out together. We proudly watched each other do things around OUR house, and we sat together patiently envisioning the characteristics of our dream home.
My change from being a sarcastic, narcissistic New Yorker to a friendly passive-aggressive (less sarcastic and less narcissistic) Minnesotan was slow, but steady. I'm astounded by the number of times I've given other people directions or listened to the radio without hearing the Minnesota accent. I'm also pleasantly surprised by how many things I normally do that would take a lot of planning to do in New York!
I'm still getting used to a few things, like driving a car (I feel so freee!), my sheaters (seat-heaters) - because there's nothing like a warm vagina on a -40 morning, the sunlight (holy HELL sunlight without pollution is BLINDING), and having to park miles away to pick up one thing (one thing, Target. ONE thing.).
To be fair, though, there's still a lot that Minnesota is getting used to about me. (Cheeky emoticon)
I knew that my persistence in living in the past was going to mess with my marriage. I couldn't get the idea out of my head that this wasn't permanent; that we weren't going to head back to our apartment in a matter of weeks. I would whisper to Doug at night about New York, people or places I was missing, and we'd both get really dispirited. And then one of us would remind the other to snap out of it, causing monstrous fights and unending silent treatments. Doug was embarrassed that he had lost his job and moved us to Minnesota - to live in his parents' basement. But I couldn't sympathize with him because I was so stuck in my own depression. I just really couldn't stomach the idea of my son and I being Minnesotans instead of New Yorkers.
Then I got a job, Ollie went to daycare and we bought a house. Slowly, slooooowly, I found myself starting to like the state without knowing it. I began waking up excited to go to work, and I would leave excited to get home and cook dinner for my family. On weekends I would love getting out to explore or meet up with friends. Doug and I started actually conversing like a husband and wife, instead of coworkers. We were liking each other more - asking for opinions and going out together. We proudly watched each other do things around OUR house, and we sat together patiently envisioning the characteristics of our dream home.
My change from being a sarcastic, narcissistic New Yorker to a friendly passive-aggressive (less sarcastic and less narcissistic) Minnesotan was slow, but steady. I'm astounded by the number of times I've given other people directions or listened to the radio without hearing the Minnesota accent. I'm also pleasantly surprised by how many things I normally do that would take a lot of planning to do in New York!
I'm still getting used to a few things, like driving a car (I feel so freee!), my sheaters (seat-heaters) - because there's nothing like a warm vagina on a -40 morning, the sunlight (holy HELL sunlight without pollution is BLINDING), and having to park miles away to pick up one thing (one thing, Target. ONE thing.).
To be fair, though, there's still a lot that Minnesota is getting used to about me. (Cheeky emoticon)
So, yes. I will still hold on to my cell number, my Metrocard, and my Michigan-meets-Brooklyn sense of self. However, I will choose to appreciate my surroundings, instead of find fault with them. I will choose to embrace the temperatures, instead of complain about them. I will choose to support my son as he grows up Minnesotan, instead of fantasize how he would be growing up otherwise. And I may even (deep breath), choose to grasp on to the lingo, instead of push it away.
For after all, Minnesota has brought my family:
- Closer to my in-laws and my sister's family
- Clinching bonds between Oliver and 3 of his cousins
- A house in which to grow our family
- New traditions
- New beautiful friendships
- Oliver's allergist
- Happiness and health, and
- Closer together as a tight-knit family
I will always miss the New York of my twenties and early thirties. But I'm going to allow Oliver to choose where he calls home - green grass, sprawling churches and close family or what he hears New York City has meant to his parents.
I'll gladly take that over teaching Ollie how to hail a cab.
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