Meeting new people inevitably comes with the question:  ”Where are you from?” I have a problem with this question on two fronts. First, I have no answer beyond the last place I resided, and second, why does it matter?  Now seriously, I recognize that it is an issue of small talk and curiosity, but it’s got me thinking about where I’m from, and what that has to do with where I’m going.

Logistically speaking, I am from Ohio, Wisconsin, Kansas, Wisconsin (again), Nebraska, and now Texas. So really, how am I supposed to answer where I’m from? I don’t feel a particular connection to any one place; no nostalgic longings to return to the prairies and windswept landscape of Nebraska, but I do miss people from every place I’ve been.  And after my roadtrip back to Nebraska, I realized how much I do miss some people (and how little I miss Nebraska itself!).

But another thing I’m learning about where people are from, is that there really are cultural differences within our vast country, and choosing to be “from” one particular place does say something about me to others. Now, honestly, Wisconsin and Nebraska are not that different. The biggest change was hearing people talk about the Huskers instead of the Packers (both are equally annoying to hear about), although being that we were in a college town with a fair amount of other people from Wisconsin, my Nebraska-culture sort of had a Wisconsin sub-culture, I guess.

Anyway, Texas is different. I didn’t even notice it at first, and there are still some things that I’m not sure are really different, or if I just didn’t notice in Nebraska (mostly dealing with children). Take a Sunday morning. The big thing growing up was Sunday lunch. Would someone ask us out? Would we ask someone else? It was kind of expected–especially when first trying to assimilate newer visitors into friends. Sunday was the one day we could rationalize spending money eating out. Similarly, it still held the roast-in-the-oven appeal, too, which contained the same premise of fellowship through food.

Now, maybe it’s just us. Maybe we exude some sort of secret scent that says, “Please, please, don’t ask us to eat with you!” Because we’ve been asked out to Sunday lunch twice. In a year. Once when we first visited a very small congregation, and it was by an Australian guy (we already had plans, so we had to decline), and once this last weekend. Oh, and we were invited over to the preacher’s house for Easter lunch last year, which was very nice, but there were at least 20 others there, and there was an egg hunt for the kids, so…

I feel like the social comfort level is higher here. People are very friendly. They will ask after you and invite you to things, but nothing that holds you accountable. You have to log a lot of hours before joining the inner circles–before being invited to just “hang” instead of for a specific event. Granted, this is not true with all people (there are always exceptions), but I felt a more genuine connection with people in the Midwest (or it could just be that I’ve only lived here a year, and I just think I had better connections before).

It just seems the focus on appearance is much more prevalent in the south. Acrylic nails run rampant. Hair is always perfect. People are more reserved, and over-involved. I’ll look in to more differences later (the baby just woke up!), but just wanted to make the stand that I am choosing to be from Wisconsin. I’m willing to throw a little Nebraska in there (the ol’ college days), too. But now that I’m realizing there is a bit of a stigma attached to wherever you’re from, I’m just fine with being from Wisconsin. So people will assume I like cheese (they wouldn’t be wrong!), and they may ask me about the Packers, but they will also form an opinion about me simply because of where I’m from. It’s a little silly, but maybe a little true.

I’ll keep digging into these cultural differences, as well as how I’ve been affected by them, and how this translates into my future. After all, progress doesn’t happen in a box.

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