Worlds apart

This ramble is actually a few states in the making. Over this last week I was out of town for a work conference. It was a jaunty trip over to the Jersey coast and Atlantic City. My buddy and I drove across the great, very, very wide state of Pennsylvania. It took us through the skyrise metropolis of Philadelphia and the hustle and bustle of a huge east coast city.

I reside outside what I believe now is the fourteenth largest city in the U.S., Columbus. But although they are perhaps only five-hundred miles apart, these two cities reside in different worlds. (Had I the time I would have looked up my child-hood friend Billy Wilson whom I believe resides somewhere in that area. Just for anyone who is interested,  he has started a company named On Doc. But that ramble is for another day).

The notion of this ramble didn't come to fruition until I sat waiting for my haircut. I picked up a magazine from the rack, one of the housekeeping genre with all the good stuff coming for the autumnal equinox. That's Fall for you unenlightened. Within its pages were the recipes and crafts of the upcoming season. It dawned on my from my recent trip that many of these pages seem to be geared to the Midwestern area of the country and/or the rural vastness of this great country. I pondered what it would be like to live in a highly urbanized area of the country and have these images before me.

I wouldn't think they would strike the same chord in places like Philly, New York City or any of the other megatropolises we have scattered around the country. Pictures of pumpkins and cornstalks, bales of straw and scarecrows somehow seem to ring hollow in my mind in these mega-cities.
Perhaps it is my own naivete of the world that leads me to this conclusion. I have only lived in this part of the country and my experience reflects that viewpoint. But what else it tells me is, though we are all Americans we might as well live in different countries sometimes. Their world is not my world and vice versa. My semi-rural upbringing has different roots and different customs. Perhaps one day I will again meet my friend Mr. Wilson and we will sit down to have a beer and discuss my notions.

I hope so. Even after forty years, he is a good friend.