Friday, May 4, 2007

Migratory workers

Pardon the hiatus. Just as my readership thronged to ten or eleven, I took some time off to ready myself for the great northern migration. About this time every year, the Mystery Woman kidnaps me and rolls me uphill from the Hill Country of Central Texas to the Lake Country of Minnesota.

It's not an even trade. All the walleye in the world cannot compensate for the lack of Tex-Mex. And let's don't even talk about cheeseburgers. Or chicken-friend steak. Or BBQ.

Oh sure, they have those foods in Minneapolis, but they are timid and pale. No heartburn. No kick. Not ever.

To compound matters, we are separated by a common language (a stolen phrase). My dulcet cowboy tones often don't resonate in the northern ear. Once at a drug store drive-through, the young woman behind the glass asked me to repeat my home address four times before finally admitting she just wanted to hear me say it. At the post office, the Asian clerk never could understand me and finally asked for a translator. Seriously.

I told them I used to be on radio and TV but they only nod knowingly, "That was in Texas."

Humor gets me in trouble Up There, just like it does down home. Once I was trying to throw a weighted line over a tree limb so we could put up a swing for the grand daughter. A couple older than me stopped to watch from the sidewalk. Never said a word. Just watched. Finally, after several unsuccessful attempts, I coiled the rope in my hands, looked at the old couple and said: "It's damned difficult to rope a squirrel." They took off like a shot. Never saying a word. Crazy Texan.

Actually, I like their playful, understated sense of humor. Norwegian, I think. With a touch of Lutheran for emphasis. Garrison Keillor live! And I like escaping the brutal weather in both regions. This winter in Texas, we missed weeks of below zero weather and umpteen feet of snow that fell upon our neighbors in Minnesota. And last summer, we outran the long stretch of blazing 100 degree days in the Texas sun and sipped white wine on the front porch in Minneapolis. Clink.

So, for the ten or eleven who read this blog, fair warning -- we're going dark for a week. But we're taking notes. Expect thrilling new episodes the end of next week.


Clive said...

Noticed the new link on the music blog, Rhythms & Riffs, and followed it. Interesting name, I thought - Blog of Ages. And it was better than I'd hoped, my kind of blog in fact. There ought to be a club for geezers with blogs; we write the best ones.

A Texan too. Well, as a Brit, I have to admit I love that Texan humor (brilliant squirrel-roping story, by the way); lived in Oklahoma for two years when I first arrived in this country and spent quite a bit of time in Texas. Never made it as far west as Lubbock, however.

And now I'm in New England, discovering that it's a whole nuther country too - more like home to me in so many ways. Man, this is a big country.

I can't find the link to the music blog but it must be here somewhere. Thanks. You might enjoy my personal blog too - it's more of a geezerish thing, you understand: Gone Away.

George Phenix said...

New England is beautiful. And the people are especially nice, except in the deep of winter.

Plus, they've learned to say Yankee without prefix or suffix. Remarkable.

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