Cat’s Trip to Wisconsin: My Door County Easter

April 16th, 2010 by

Note:  Today is the 3rd week of “I Feel Fridays,” and we feel fortunate to feature a guest blogger, Cat McClintock.  Our goal with the  “I Feel Fridays” project is to share stories from the past week that generated an emotional response. We encourage readers to respond to the post or to share an experience of their own the past week.  Last week Cat responded by writing a post on her blog, BismarckStories.com.  It was so insightful that I asked Cat if she’d share it on ReImagineRural.

Cat is an experienced blogger with a special interest in hyperlocal stories.  Prior to moving to Bismarck, she created quite a following on a blog she created in Fort Collins, CO, called Lost Fort Collins.  As a newcomer to Bismarck, she’s just scratching the surface of stories, but I’m predicting she’ll capture a strong audience just like in Fort Collins. 

 

By Cat McClintock

I grew up in San Diego. Everything I knew about the rest of the world, I learned from its expatriates. And in San Diego, there were a lot of expatriates.They would talk occasionally about seasons, hockey, union factory jobs, and creeks so big you could swim in them. But that was rare. Mostly they all wanted to become part of the Orange Crush commercial that was my hometown and forget the Midwest. They wanted to ditch Mom and Dad, boogie board with the dog on the beach, and wait for the green flash.

So, I’m telling you, I only thought I knew about Wisconsin. But then my boyfriend took me home to Brussels, a farm town settled by Belgians in the 1850s.

We visited with the old men who told family stories while I after-dinner napped in my chair. Between dreams, I’d try to memorize their accents. They are the third (pronounced “durd”) or fourth (“ford”) generation in this county, and they still speak like they just got off the boat.

They live in dairy country so beautiful it was once featured in National Geographic. And the maple syrup and cheese spread are from heaven itself.

But typical of the Midwest, that’s where all the good taste ends. The house is a prefab because the original farm structure got old and wasn’t worth saving. There are plastic pastel holiday decorations out front and all over the window seat. And function trumps form: I counted 6 recliners in the living room-so nobody has to sit in a folding chair.

These people, ha! They never got the memo that La-Z-boys have no lines, and plastic bunnies on the lawn are now ironic. That prefab homes lack architectural interest. That they should have exercise equipment where the dartboard and pool table now reside.

But then sometimes I wonder. Could design rules dreamed up by magazine editors and movie set designers fail to apply when your own cultural ties run deeper than Don Hutson? When nature, combines, and cows do the landscape? When you’re practically walking distance from Grandma’s grave and the church where your great grandfather cut the foundation stones?

They’re not my family. My family was briefly together like this, but we move every generation and now only have the internet to hold us together.

But this is what I’ve missed for most of my holidays. People with more food than they can eat; take some. People whose aunts, cousins, friends drop in all day long. People too tied to home to drive to the Cities for Ikea or Restoration Hardware, and just pick up some at Wal-Mart.

People so unlikely, they hug my teenage son and me the first time we meet. Then they say they love me, just because their nephew loves me.

Welcome to this old old family.

I take another Diet Pepsi without asking, go back to my recliner, and quietly thank God they never made it out to California.

 

(To learn more about “I Feel Fridays,” check out this post - and then tell us what you’re feeling.) 

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Posted in Rural, Rural Life | Comments ( 1 )

One Response to “Cat’s Trip to Wisconsin: My Door County Easter”

  1. Lindsey Says:
    April 16th, 2010 at 8:31 am

    Cat,

    Thanks so much for sharing your reflections here. What you describe is something that I think many of us from rural places fail to appreciate. Many times, I feel like the life I live is inadequate compared to the boogie board with the dog on the beach, like I haven’t lived up to my potential because I’ve chosen to live in a small town. And then, as you describe so eloquently, I have moments when I remember why. Last night was one of those nights: beautiful red sky SD , dog running along side me as I walk down a quiet gravel road, calves dancing in the pasture.

    Sometimes, life doesn’t get much better!

    Lindsey

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