Culture Shock: a Photo Essay
I like to tell people that when I first moved to Illinois at age 17, I’d never been in a traffic jam, never used a revolving door, and thought my older sister’s dorm building was wicked cool because it had…an elevator. She could ride it anytime she wanted!
Last weekend we drove to the Big Guy’s family home in Iowa. It was culture shock in reverse, reminding me of my rural Michigan upbringing in a town of less than 2000. I went to the land where trucker hats and cowboy boots are functional pieces of apparel, not fashion accessories. Where you can tour the local carnival and still run into an old high school sweetheart.
Where the people you meet remember your Grandma’s baking and can point out the damaged sign where your sexagenarian brother-in-law wiped out in a drunken teenage accident. Where the weather is a source of economic concern, and anyone can name any breed of cattle that you pass. The land of 4-H and Future Farmers of America, century farms, good plain cooking and lots of cousins.
One year Joe and I came to visit the clan and went out to the car to get something. In the middle of a private moment of affection, we heard someone holler, “Little Joey? Is that you?” An old friend of the family was peering through the other side of the car. She hadn’t seen little Joey in, I don’t know, donkey’s years.
It’s also the land of strong opinions. People strongly believe that the price of selling corn matters, and they deeply care whether that hog operation was built too close to decent folks’ houses. I successfully escaped political discussions, which are not so easy to avoid in Iowa, but did engage in the following exchange:
Her: “I JUST THINK that people who come to America should speak English.”
Me: “What language did they speak on your trip to the Dominican Republic?”
Her: “In the resort they all spoke English, but in the cities they mostly spoke Spanish.”
Me: “Did you speak Spanish to them?”
Her: “No, I don’t know that much Spanish.”
This year marked several milestone birthdays - my mother-in-law Eunice reached 90 years of age, and her brother Dick reached 80. Think of it! 90 years of Thanksgiving dinners and folding laundry; peeling potatoes and changing diapers. When Eunice was a girl, their home had no indoor plumbing; they still used an outhouse. She could drive a team of draft horses and got her drivers’ license at age 12. Right after World War II, she and her husband got dressed up for a big trip to Chicago. Tomahawk, a prize show steer they’d been raising, brought in the largest amount of money yet paid for beef cattle. She still has a letter of commendation from the White House.
There was a big party and my own parents actually came along! I am so blessed to be a part of two such loving families. What fun it is to see the births, growing up, and aging of family members, see the circle widen as we marry and bring our own families together with others, add new members and celebrate the lives of others. I’m thankful for that gift.
Published by angelawd on July 9th, 2008 tagged Joyful living, My Ex-Life
July 10th, 2008 at 2:15 pm
Mmmm…growing up in the country that takes me back home. Thank you for sharing these visual and mental images! Wow, your mother-in-law sounds amazing.
I’m guessing you didn’t get through to the woman in the exchange about respecting people’s language when they travel to another country!
July 11th, 2008 at 4:33 pm
I am blessed to have such a sweet mom-in-law. Last weekend really showed me that I belong to another culture now - but I do miss some of the country life.
Nope, I don’t think the lady got what I was saying.