Differences - Odds And Ends

Some things about life in rural Nebraska are strikingly different from my lifelong experiences in Los Angeles. They may seem like individually small things, but they add up to a lot of differences.

In Alma, Nebraska, most people buy a vehicle to fulfill a needed function. What a concept. In Southern California (as well as other places), people buy a car to make a statement to others about who they think they are. As nearly as I can tell, there is only one Hummer in all of Alma, and the owner doesn't drive it very often. It is usually in his garage. I haven't seen those expensive spinning wheel covers anywhere in Nebraska, which says good things about the people here.

There are lots of off road vehicles here, both SUVs and pickup trucks, and (wonder of wonders) they actually drive them off the roads. Many are perpetually dirty because they either kick up a lot of dust or drive through a lot of mud. In L.A., the only time they are off road is when the owner pulls into his paved driveway. The paint is always spotless and the chrome shines brilliantly. Yep, the cars here serve a purpose other than to make a statement about the owner's ego.

Driving habits are interesting, too. since there are no traffic lights in Alma, just the occasional stop sign, people keep a look out for cross traffic at all times in the neighborhood. When they see other cars two things happen that are remarkably different from L.A.: They show a lot driving courtesy to each other, often giving up their "right" to the right-of-way, and they always wave a greeting to each other. How nice that is. I wave at people I do not know and they smile at me in passing and wave back. In Los Angeles, what might be mistaken for an attempt to wave is really just a sloppy "one-fingered salute" followed by an arm extending out the window with the latest model Glock 9mm pumping bullet holes into the side of my car - proving once again that the City Of The Angels is a technology leader.

On a more curious note, there seem to be a lot more wives mowing lawns in Alma than husbands. Almost everyone here uses "riding" lawnmowers which certainly require less brute force to operate, nonetheless, It seems to me that when it comes time to get out in the sun and crank up the mower, it is the women, not the men, who get the job done. Hmmm. I don't have an explanation for that curiosity. If it were football season, the men might be inside watching the Nebraska Cornhuskers go at it with Oklahoma or Colorado, but since we are still one month from kickoff time that isn't the case. One day I saw a teenage boy come out of the house while his mom was mowing the lawn. He met a buddy from next door and they walked off down the block. Now, since I come from the "old school", I am a firm believer that every teenager should become intimately familiar with the feel of a lawnmower handle on weekends. The times, though, they are a-changin'.

Most homes here do not have garbage disposal units in the kitchen sink. ??? I don't know why, but it makes me recall the triangular rubber food scrap collector that used to sit in one corner of the sink when I was a kid in Lincoln Heights in east L.A. That's another of the old-timey things that have gone the way of glass milk bottles, ice-men, and Saturday serials at the local theater. I assume there are good reasons why disposals are not installed in sinks here, I just haven't found out what they are yet.

The local fishing gods smiled upon me and brought an end to my fish catching drought. Last night I enjoyed catfish (caught with my own rod and reel) in a yellow cornmeal batter with a touch of cayenne pepper. I had forgotten how good catfish could be.

Since I now have yellow cornmeal on hand, this morning I made myself cornmeal mush for breakfast. It took me back to my childhood again. My mother and her mother were both from Oklahoma, and since we lived with my grandmother for many years, I had lots of cornmeal mush for breakfast. Grandma would cook up a batch in a double boiler (do people use them any more?), and the leftover mush would go into the refrigerator. The next morning the now firm cornmeal dish would be sliced, fried lightly and served hot with syrup for breakfast. It was always a winner. And, yes, she also made grits for breakfast. Grandma also regularly cooked up things like fried green tomatoes and batter fried okra for dinner. Often, instead of mashed potatoes we would have boiled turnips with the evening meal. I haven't tasted turnips in over fifty years. It's not a vegetable I would want every day, but I just might have to track some down in a market and give 'em a try.

Isn't this an interesting world?