"Here" in my case is Rhode Island, which bears an uncanny resemblance to the area on Long Island where I grew up. I've spent most of my adult life trying to distance myself from my plain vanilla childhood. It seems all I've done is trade Long for Rhode, vanilla for coffee. Oddly, coffee is the flavor of choice in these here parts.
Let me explain. There was very little diversity in my little town back in the 1960's, early 1970's. I found living there to be incredibly dull and stifling, and couldn't wait to escape. I attended college in Buffalo, New York which broadened my horizons somewhat. Canada was just 20 minutes away, and we often crossed the border for Chinese food. I moved to New York City after I graduated, and hit the diversity jackpot.
My husband and I eventually bought a house in Fort Greene, Brooklyn, which at the time was a predominately black neighborhood. Our block was a melting pot of young, old, gay, straight, black, white, rich, poor. It was a great place for young families trying to avoid the same old same old.
Eleven years and three kids later, we up and moved to Costa Rica. My Sesame Street Spanish didn't get me very far, and I soon realized that our American lifestyle wasn't going to fly in a quasi third world country. I got used to the chaos of electrical, water and telephone outages, severe weather events and wildlife where you least expected it. I coped with the cow paths they called roads, taking pains to avoid the cows. I resigned myself to really bad cheese, terrible bread, and beef so tough you had to cook it for days. In short, I loved it. We lived like kings, albeit kings who lived in a prior century.
Now I'm back to living in a colonial-style house in a wooded setting. The whole lawn thing. Nowhere you can realistically walk to. Predictable, orderly, smooth. My kids plot their escape to college.
And you may ask yourself
Am I right? ...am I wrong?
And you may tell yourself
My god!...what have I done?
Am I right? ...am I wrong?
And you may tell yourself
My god!...what have I done?
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