Culture shock

Chris:  As mentioned elsewhere (again and again), Shel is from Texas.  The Panhandle, to be precise (or as I like to call it, "real" Texas).  I'm from Chicago.  South Side.  As in "Irish".  To say the least, we do things...differently.  For instance, I was taught that if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.

Shel:  Well, I'll grant you that the Texas Panhandle is about as "real" as it comes.  But then again, so is the South Side of Chicago!  As for "if you can't say anything nice...." my raising had a codicil to that. It went something like, "...but if saying nothing at all is going to hurt worse than saying anything, make up something nice to say!"   My mother was a big believer in not rocking the family boat.  And if that meant the Southern version of lying (aka saying something that sounds nice even if you don't mean it), then so be it. My mom never was big on the truth anyway, it was a family legend that she couldn't tell the truth between Halloween and New Year's (the Christmas lies took a while to wear off, I guess).

Chris:  We believed in not rocking the family boat.  Problem is, my family boat is the Titanic.  Notice we still live 100 miles from any of them?

Shel:  So you say.  I haven't been around any of them long enough at any one time to figure out exactly what's going on, what went on, what might go on.... so I just do what I do best.  Be my sweet Southern self and let the rest take care of itself.

Chris:  Yeah, me too.  So anyway, we have the different upbringings.  Of course our parents both taught us in their own way to be good people.  Your mom succeeded, in spite of what must have been really confusing holidays.

Shel:  You're sure not kidding about that!  One of my mother's favorite stories was about this grocery store she used to go to when I was a baby.  Remember now, this was in the '60's, when people still trusted people.  Anyway, there was this bagger who apparently thought I was the cutest thing EVER, and from all accounts, Mom would just hand me over to him and he'd carry me around while she did her shopping. (Try that today and see how fast CPS knocks on your door...but anyway, I digress).  Sometime around December, he asked her what she was doing for my first Christmas.  Her answer is a family classic: "Oh, we're just going to dump ketchup on the snow and tell her the cats ate Santa Claus!"  The poor bagger was traumatized.  I mentioned Mom was a liar. I forgot to mention that she was also damned GOOD at it.

Chris:  I...think my mom would actually do something like that, had she thought of it.  Anyway, another difference is actually pretty basic:  I'm used to locking everything, everywhere, and you say for a long time you never had a need for a key.

Shel:  Not only did we not have a need for a key, we probably didn't even know where the darn thing was!  I realize this is a completely foreign concept to someone from Chicago, but until recently,  locking doors where I grew up was something you only did if you happened to be heading out of town on an extended vacation.  And sometimes not then, either, if you had someone coming by to pick up mail and feed pets.   I say "until recently", because today I read a Facebook update from a Stinnett friend who had a brand new Olympus camera stolen off her kitchen table, still in the bag from the store, before she ever got to use it!  That's some brazen thievery, there.  Even living in Stinnett now, I think I'd be locking everything down.  Of course, it IS still Texas.  Shotguns are a great substitute for door locks.  Once Mom thought she had prowlers.  She promptly borrowed a shotgun from her older brother, my Uncle Everett.  Uncle Everett was the police chief at the time.  He told her, "Mary, now you know you can't shoot them unless they are actually in the house, right?"   Her reply?  "If they're not in the house when I shoot them, they damn sure will be by the time you get here!"  I think he gave up after that.  As far as I know, she never had cause to use the shotgun, though.

Chris:  Whereas in Chicago you read about half a dozen shootings a day, and that's with most firearms being illegal there.   Another difference is in driving habits.  You're polite, and the rest of the state isn't.

Shel:  I drive like I am. Sweet and Southern.  Unfortunately, Illinois drivers don't recognize either of those traits when behind a wheel of a car.  Which is why you drive whenever we're together, and I don't go much farther on my own than Sterling!

Chris:  I'll admit it: Illinois drivers suck.  We have left-lane squatters, texters, bumper-surfers, and of course illiterates.  And that's just in this town. Then again, look who we have making our traffic laws. When I say I'm better than most drivers in this state, I'm not being conceited; it's kind of like saying I can beat a 5th grader in chess.

Shel:  I have to admit, it is still an adjustment and a matter of slightly wounded pride to me to admit I don't know every back road around here,  after living here nearly seven years!   In Texas, I could get you anywhere in the area I lived in (in Texas this means about a 30 mile radius) that you wanted to go, probably about six different ways, and in some of those ways you wouldn't see pavement!   I still have to ask where certain small towns are around here, and that is such a foreign concept to me.  I knew every back road in the county I lived in like the back of my hand.   In the Panhandle, I also knew the oil lease roads and the ranch roads, who they belonged to, and who had shotguns if you trespassed!

Chris:  Surprisingly, you can fit a lot into Illinois.  Probably more than we need, now that I think about it.

Shel:  Yeah, things are a bit - shall we say - more densely populated here....

Chris:  Zing!!