Realizing where you are

It dawned on me the other day, that I'm living in Indianapolis. Perhaps you are thinking, "yes, that's where you live, do you know your name and phone number?" But I don't mean I haven't recognized this fact in two years. What I mean is that I am quite surprisingly making my life happen here. Why surprising? While I did technically choose to live here, it wasn't because I wanted to be in Indianapolis. It was for the job. I love the job. I like the people I work with. I'm just surprised that I can put up with the way of life here. Okay, now, before you native types get all up in arms, let me have my say.

I was listening to the radio and heard a story about a senate bill advancing the idea of the carbon footprint taxing. One of the proponents of the bill is Amy Klobuchar, the senator from Minnesota. While I didn't get to vote her into office, I surely would have. The problem was when I both smiled at the thought of how progressive Minnesota is, I also snickered to myself, "only the Minnesotans" (well the other author is from Oregon, so there you go). But then I thought "NO! Did I just disparage the progressive, Scandanavian influenced way of life I so desperately wish to reclaim?" What has happend to me!

I want what I cannot have at the moment. I miss the diversity of cultures and excitement of knowing the difference between a Thai restaurant run by Hmong and a Thai restaurant run by Thais. (And on top of that, missing the options for Thai food). I miss the vast amounts of green sensibilities--the CSAs the community farms, the hippies, people who recycle. I miss the vibrancy of arts like Heart of the Beast, the Cedar Cultural Center, and big rivers and tiny lakes. I miss the accents. Sure Indianapolis has all this, to an extent. But I don't think that it is as evident to me, as I haven't found my way into it yet.

So what is important in this realization is not unlike Erik's favorite motto--no matter where you go, there you are. So here I am. This is not the Minneapolis, but the Indianapolis. It has what I need--Erik, a great job, a job for Erik, a nice house, and good friends. More people stop and visit now because we are much more on the way than out of the way. So why am I complaining? Perhaps I'm just having 2nd year culture shock. In July we'll have been here 2 years. It seems hardly possible. And yet in that time we've settled in. So there must be something that is worth celebrating and owning. And maybe that is what is important. It is less tentative now, our being here. I've got a good sense of that and place can be made into something worthwhile. It just takes a person to make it so.