Every time we’ve moved over the past 12 years, we’ve had to adjust to a new culture. I joke that moving around the Middle East is more like getting a different flavor of ice cream rather than a jump from Mexican food to Chinese food. Like comparing mint chip to rocky road — different, but still in the same food family.
In one country you adapt to parking on the sidewalks, driving on the shoulder of the highway while watching for people driving in reverse, and sitting in the middle of the intersection after the light turns red, honking your horn along with everyone else.
In another, it’s learning that people are going to take photos of your baby and touch your kids’ light hair and it doesn’t mean they are creepers. I mean they might be, but men having photos of random babies on their phones isn’t a sign of it in this country.
And coming home to America in the summer always had it’s own version of culture shock: Why is everyone practically naked here? Kissing in public? Ack! My eyes! What is this thing called sales tax?! And the fabulousness of free water in restaurants.
So it’s no surprise that my first fall in America after 12 years away has had some moments of culture shock.
Like when did Halloween get so big? When I left in 2010 it was a few orange lights, pumpkins, maybe a scarecrow with a scary mask on a porch … done. Halloween now? I’ve got neighbors with a 12 foot tall motion sensitive clown that looks like it’s coming to kill you. Another neighbor has inflatable pumpkins the size of a car, right next to a Ghostbusters themed yard with a larger than life Stay Puff Marshmallow man.
It’s like Christmas Vacation— Halloween style. In my research of “is this normal?” my sisters assured me this has become an American thing, not just an “everything’s bigger in Texas” thing.
But the biggest culture shock for me has been the contrast between California culture and Texas culture. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but a lot of people have been moving to Texas recently (understatement of the week).
Being new, I’ve met a ton of people and have been surprised by how many of them are also new: “Hi, I’m new to Texas. I just moved here at the end of June.” Reply: “Us too! We moved here in April/last November/sometime in the past 12 months.”
Always, when I ask what brought them to Texas, they don’t say “a job” or “family” they say politics. Unashamedly. Boldly. It’s like we’re all pilgrims and we made it to the New World together. No one has to explain what they mean by “politics.” All the newbies nod with understanding. We all came seeking the same thing and we’re really hoping that this mass influx of people doesn’t change the ability to own and carry a gun, to be able to choose what to put in your body, to protect unborn children, and to have a say in what is being taught in school. Most of them were content to stay put until Covid showed the difference between living in a free state and a restrictive state and that put the fire under everyone to move.
It’s surreal to be at a High School football game and 1) have a prayer before the game and 2) the student leading the prayer concludes with, “in the name of Jesus Christ our savior, Amen.” And all of those pilgrims said, “Amen.”
Fun read once again Robin! Tonight while walking the dog I thought of you when I saw a giant skeleton and a towering nightmare before Christmas figure along with lots of other large Halloween lawn decorations and lights. But I think your neighbor’s clown is by far the creepiest.