Community and Transience

Our two two-year stints, and our recent 18-month anniversary at our current location, mean that for the past few years we have experienced local community as transients. In our Small Town, we didn’t know how long we would be there, but in Academic Town (formerly known as Slightly Bigger Town, Slightly Less Midwest- but that’s way too long), we knew from the outset we would only be there two years. While E had several friends from work, a few of which we got to know as a family, I mostly connected- or tried to connect- with women who were there permanently. It didn’t take me long to wish I had been more evasive about our long-term plans. 

I was never totally sure how much of the reserve was on my side, and how much on theirs, but being the transient academic family trying to break into an established community was definitely not on my side. This was a really nice group of women who met twice a month for a spiritually oriented moms group, which I really, really enjoyed. By the second year we were there I was helping lead the group (mostly administrative tasks) and seeing some of the women a couple times a week through different organized activities, but I never totally felt a part of the group, and didn’t make close friendships there. Which is not to say that community was not valuable to me- they brought us meals when we had TT, they prayed for me during my antepartum depression, and the activities and acquaintanceships were a lifeline as I struggled through my pregnancy while home full-time with two year old H. But the emotional ties I have there- or lack thereof- stand in stark contrast to the ones I made in Small Town. And while there are likely a number of factors going on, I can’t help but think a major one was that we all knew my family would be leaving.

That was one of our experiences, but transient community is not always doomed- far from it. (If that were true, college would be so boring!) It does require greater commitment to have the full experience of friendship and community in those circumstances. We had an acquaintance in Small Town who was there for her husband's residency, who was one of the earliest and most active members in our church and community. She talked about the difficult time she had while he as in medical school, as they were far from their hometown for the first time, and how she spend the four years moping and waiting to be finished. Fortunately, by the end of four years she realized she couldn’t go on like that- and she could control her situation by being proactive in participating in their community and making friends in their next location. And wow, did they ever.  They hosted and hosted, were friendly and made friends, and everyone was sad when it was time for them to go. Of course, sometimes living in an academic town or transient area means you get burnt out from so many people moving away, and have to step back or pick and choose among those kind of relationships. That hasn't been our experience yet, but I imagine it will be some day- and I do respect that.

In addition to greater commitment, I’ve found transient community is eased when it’s mutual- that's why college is so non-problematic. You don’t have to only make friends with those whose arrival and departure dates only coincide with your own, but I’ve found- from both sides!- that people who are only here for a time are much more forgiving of others' plans to move on. Additionally, of course, people who are new to an area are looking for friends and connections- a fact I’ve shamelessly exploited, time and time again. When we first moved here to the Slight South, I was on the constant lookout for others who were new to the area and might be looking to make friends.

Of course, there is a benefit to passing through- you don’t have to choose your friends too carefully, knowing you will be moving on and can use that as a natural endpoint if needed. Fortunately, we haven’t had too many experiences where we took advantage of that, but it’s true that when I know we are planning to move again soon, I tend to be content with quantity over quality. Fortunately,  this is a dynamic we will be experiencing a little less, now that we are here in the Slight South for a least a few more years. However, living in an academic town means there will always be a high percentage of transient people looking for community. I hope we show them the compassion and investment we were looking for as we moved frequently over the past few years.

Worth Mending

Sewing a button that had come off on my apron today, I noticed it looked as though it had been mended before. This apron- one of three in our house, and by far the sturdiest (the others having come from the dollar store and Tanzania), was inherited by me at some point from E's beloved grandmother. She looms large and loved in E's family memories, and was in many ways the center of his extended family. She passed away before we were engaged. While I met her- probably on several occasions- I know her by far the best through Steve and his Pop, who survived his wife by over 7 years. We have several things of hers- some costume jewelry I took mostly to share with our then-potential, now-flesh-and-blood daughters, a cedar chest I adore, and a gorgeous mirror and tray set. I felt a matriarchal connection tonight thinking how she had taken on this same little task, probably in the last third of her life, with likely far less existential thoughts. I hope I leave behind things worth mending; I wonder what they will be and who will be taking on that task.

Growing Girls

Sunlight stream falls on Saturday dining table.

Former baby carefully balancing spoon full of milk and cereal

Precarious trip from bowl to mouth.

Former toddler intent on tray of pink LEGO

Triumphantly pouring over pictorial directions.

Suddenly, I eat in peace, if not quiet.

Community: Not just friends

In Small Town, Midwest we (eventually) found ourselves at a wonderful church plant- just big enough to feel like a church, just small enough you could conceivably know everyone. We liked the service, but we were sold when the pastor welcomed us, chatted about our church background, and recommended several other churches we might check out if we wanted to look around more.

To be honest, the members were so friendly we were actually a little put off- someone invited us to lunch our first day there, and we turned them down. (Midwestern hospitality- it's a thing. We weren't ready yet.) Soon after, another couple with three young kids invited us to get together, and I was a little unsettled when I realized they had actually gotten a babysitter- for the first time ever- just to meet us for coffee one evening. Once we realized they were in fact normal (for the midwest) and just being friendly, we really grew to like that community. That lovely family that got a babysitter were our best friends there! (Fun fact: I'm eternally grateful my first "mom friend" was on her third child and not her first.) Now that we have young kids ourselves and know their situation a little better, it all makes perfect sense.

Since we left the area about 18 months after we found that church (during which we had a difficult pregnancy and new baby), we didn't ever get to know everyone in the church- but we joined a small group and were varying levels of close with several other families. We did play dates and met downtown and exchanged advice and gave recommendations and had dinner and prayed- together and for one another. A picture taken at our last meeting shows rumpled parents and children either wild-eyed and crazy or sleepy and fussy, and we kept it on our fridge for two years.

We were so sad to move away from that community, and we never found one like it in our next location. Even though we had almost the same number of close friends there, they didn't know each other- and so it didn't have the same sense of community. Recommendations didn't trickle back in when word got around that you were looking for a good place to take your parents for dinner. You didn't hear that someone's baby was sick and that's why they weren't there this week. We had a "small group" with one other couple, but if one of us was traveling- which happened frequently- that was it, there was no meeting. There were no group dynamics.

I think maybe we were meant to live in small towns*, and the isolation modern life isn't as healthy for us. Whether or not that sense of community is a universal desire, it has always been precious to me, ever since my first strong group of friends in high school.

 *(I will say I found actual small town life very difficult. Breaking into a close community is a whole other post!)

31 days of Community

Whenever we move, people love to ask how we like our new location. I never like it. A new place always has plenty of warts sitting on the tip of its nose, but you have to know it a while to appreciate its sly sense of humor, its humble service, or its belly laugh (or, if you always move in August, its mild winter.) But the main reason I never like our new location is we have never moved into a ready-made community. We had a great one in our Hometown, we found a great one in Small Town, Midwest, and we struggled to have one in Slightly Bigger Town, Slightly Less Midwest.  (How did I never name that location before? Those were two hard years.) I showed up here in the Slight South last year ready to craft a community for our family from sheer will and the skin on my teeth. I have heard of mythical people move to a place where they have family, or friends, or a branch of their church, or whatnot- but that's never been us. I don't know that I recommend our method.

However, all that moving has allowed me many moments to reflect on community, the different types we've had (and wanted), how to cultivate it, and why it matters. Hopefully enough moments to make it through (about) 31 days of discussion! (OK, really I'll be happy with 15- we'll see!)

What We're Into: Labor Day Edition

(This is very belated, but I found this in the drafts folder today. At the time it seemed a little too Eeyore, but in retrospect E and I got a good laugh. Hopefully the Fall Edition has a little more cheer and a lot more pumpkin spice.)

We are settling into our new house- it's slowly feeling less like a really nice vacation home, and more like a place we live, and also, inexplicably and somewhat overwhelmingly, own and are responsible for. Some things we're into right now:

Our exterminator: Dave and I are on a first-name basis. He's come three times for wood roaches and once for yellow jackets. I'm wondering if he does snakes.

Deep breathing: We found three more wood roaches in the past week, and I had been hoping not to renew my acquaintance with Dave until spring. One was dead and none were in our bed, so we're thinking good thoughts and trying not to hold our breath.

Yard work: After E found a copperhead hiding in the rotting plant he was removing, we are on a mission to destroy any attractive snake habitat in our yard. At the current rate we're going, this will take infinity weeks.

Paying bills: We bought a house with 600 additional square feet, painted a room, exterminated (twice), replaced 20 feet of sewer pipe, extricated yellow jackets from our walls (exterior!) and replaced the damaged siding, and bought a literal truck load of furniture from Ikea. You can do the math if you like, but I'd rather not.

(It's real-time me again. Just wanted to let any concerned parties know that we have not found any more snakes and only one roach since writing this. The AC was almost broken but it turns out we are signed up for some kind of remote shut off on really hot days, so the bills are OK too.)

Living without a microwave

So, I'm not a total crazy conspiracy theorist. But, when I found out I was pregnant five years ago, I was heating up my lunch at work with the microwave pointing directly at my yet-unformed baby- and I wondered. There are tons of sources of radiation in my life, and it seemed like this would be a relatively easy one to ditch. I met one friend who only used their microwave to store food in, and I was inspired, but I could never quite pull the plug. (Literally.)

When we moved to the Slight South a year ago, our rental had a built-in microwave, and no room to store ours, so we got rid of it on Craigslist. Of course, when we moved this summer into our new home, it didn't come with a microwave. While our new kitchen has more counter space than I'm used to, after so many years of counter space scarcity, I wasn't looking to give any up. So I figured we'd see how it went- we could always buy one later.

It has been a bit of a learning curve: re-heating rice in a pan was not my best experiment. (Much better in the oven. Thank you Google.) The basic microwave-alternatives are:

Heating in a pot: Great for melting, soups, sauces, and saucy things (like pasta in sauce or leftover meat in sauce to be served over pasta, rice, etc). Sometimes the sauce will burn a little bit on the pot, but it cleans up pretty easily with a scrubby.

Heating in the oven or toaster oven: This has a benefit it took me a while to notice: I go do something else while the food heats. If I heat something up in the microwave and it takes two or three minutes, I usually just stand aimlessly in the kitchen or try to work on a quick task- but it's not really enough time to finish anything. If it takes ten or 15 minutes to heat in the oven- I put it in, set the timer, and move on to the next thing! No awkward waiting. Of course, that means ideally I think about lunch a whole 15 or 20 minutes in advance- awesome when it happens, but it doesn't always. Still, I love the lack of awkward waiting- especially if we're heating up a variety of leftovers that would all require their own several-minute wait. Today I heated two slices a pizza, a couple bites of leftover broccoli, a hot dog, a leftover friend chicken tender, and a hot dog bun all on one big cookie sheet. Ten whole minutes to set the table and heat some soup- and everything was done!

Quick dunk in boiling water: Works great for quickly re-heating boiled or steamed veggies, plain pasta, or the frozen dumplings.

Sauteing in a pan: I've done this with leftover veggies too. Yum.

Benefits? The food tastes amazing! It makes me wonder why I put up with that microwaved texture all those years! Also, it seems to stay hotter and be more evenly heated.

Downsides? Dishes. I usually have to use a different pot or pan that the one I used to store the leftovers. I also ended up buying a tiny saucepan for heating a small amount of food or water. Worth it. (My Dad said heating water in that little pot was actually faster than the microwave!)

It's true that it takes longer and sometimes I get impatient and the food is not as warm it might be. For the most part, it's not a problem- I feel like since the food is more evenly heated, it tastes much better lukewarm than with awkward hot and cold spots like insufficiently heated microwave food.

I've been surprised how much I like not having one! But, after so many years of dependence, I still don't think I'd have the discipline to leave it unused. And that's why I haven't bought a tiny one, even to sterilize our sponges and nose-rinsing squeeze bottles. (That's a whole other post, no?)