I Run These Towns

When I moved to Michigan I was a little taken aback at the Midwest politeness. I recall riding in a car with a former coworker shortly after moving here. A car cut her off, nearly hitting her, and she waved them in. I was outraged: "What a jerk! Nice turn signal! Why are you waving them in?" She replied it was the friendly Midwestern way, and that reply still annoys me.  I'm married to the consummate considerate Midwesterner. I can't tell you the number of times I've gotten annoyed with my husband because he wants me or our son to move out of the way to accommodate someone else (often in the grocery store). I'll say, "They can wait two seconds. Why should I inconvenience myself when someone else can just wait? If it were me I would wait." But I've learned Midwesterners will bend over backward to accommodate someone else at their own inconvenience.  I've mostly gotten used to the friendly Midwestern way, although I will absolutely honk and s

When I was a kid I believed my mom could do anything. As an adult I realize it's because that's what good parents do: they shield their children from worry and keep their world spinning no matter what. Growing up my mom cooked dinner every night (there weren't really restaurants in my hometown and it's not like we would've gone out anyway).  My mom was like the original Chopped champion: she could open the pantry and make something out of whatever was there. She went grocery shopping every two weeks, and other than the random run for milk or bread those groceries had to last us until the next store run. What I didn't know as a kid is my mom worried the food wouldn't last two weeks. She worried when we had friends over (we often had an extra kid or two hanging around) there wouldn't be enough to feed everyone. But it was always enough. And like a good mom she never let us know she was worried. When I was a kid I thought my parents had a perfect marri