The Idaho v. Maine Post

My fellow student and arts journalist, Amanda, grew up on a dairy farm. When I found out, my mind immediately went straight to the image of a German milkmaid, carrying a pail of milk. Perhaps it is sunset and in the background is a picturesque little white-washed house. In other words, the exact opposite of my experience growing up, nearby the freeway and always being slightly scared of nature.

Amanda comes from Pennsylvania and today she asked me, "Do you know where Pennsylvania is?" We were talking to a girl from Idaho and I, being a sheltered California girl, did not know where it was (answer: it's near the Canadian border, near Washington state).

"Shouldn't you know where Idaho is? It's out West and you live in California." she said.

"Where is Pennsylvania?" I ask her, dead serious and almost playing dumb.

She laughs, thinking that I am just an ignorant California girl with no knowledge of geography. So she answers, "It's right next to New York State."

"Then do you ever go to Maine?" It's the first state that popped into my head, mostly because my roommate last year is now going to law school there. I'd always imagined Maine to be slightly rocky, cold rushing water, seagull, harsh winds. A San Francisco but with significantly less queens, and not as fun.

"No, not really."

"Then how should I know where Idaho is? It's all the way up north and I'm all the way down south. That's far," I said, gesturing for dramatic effect. I did not say that it was also a couple of days worth of driving. Unlike Maine to New York, which at least was still located in the general northeast.

She nods in understanding, "Oh, now I see where you are going." And for that moment, we understand each other and our small prejudices just that much more.

Such is the east vs. west mentality that I seem to encounter quite a bit over here. And while they are fascinated by my life in California, with peripheral sunshine and city life (oh god, how I miss it), I am equally enthralled by the tales of dairy farm, of growing up in the country or by the mountains, of skipping school to go hunt deer. I've never seen a wild deer. I reckon that they were majestic. Like Bambi's mom.

Then there are the other times where I am dismissed, where I get the gleeful chuckle of people saying, "Wait until you see snow." I want to say, "Yes, and I can't wait. Will there be a lot of it? I can't wait for those 100 inches." But then I'd be lying and feel like I am betraying my roots.

So then I wonder, we are in the same country and yet at other times, I feel like a complete foreigner here. And hearing the tales of other people who are also Americans, who have grown up in the farms or mountains, it registers just how large this grand ol' country is and how much I still need to know and see.