Be afraid. Be very afraid.
The first time it happened, I was pleased. Piled outside my door were stacks of fabric offcuts and bedsheets. Just what we were hoping for to keep our free facemask project going here on Arran, our little island off the coast of Scotland. I hauled them inside and started my washing machine.
A few hours later, I looked out and found more bags. Well, okay. From my quilting days, I know you can never be too thin or have too much fabric. The piles by my washer grew higher. The Hub was muttering about electricity and laundry soap costs.
By the time the third batch appeared, I was starting to worry. It wasn’t the fabric. Our facemask project could always use that. Eventually. No, it was the flashbacks. Another time, another porch. A LOT of zucchini…
Although I was born in the Midwest (Chicago), I did spend several formative years in California. So when I beamed down to middle earth again and made it through Checkpoint Reality, I had to brush up on speaking and acting Midwestern.**
In the interests of international harmony and royalties, I’ve collected my notes from this period into the soon-to-be-published Barb’s Guide to Acting Midwestern. Whether you’re new to the Midwest or a native suffering coastal urges, this book has the answers you seek to questions about:
- CLOTHES: In the Midwest, we wear them. Just after we moved to the Midwest, I remember hearing that coastal women removed their shirts and paraded across the bridge over the Niagara River to celebrate new legislation legalizing bared breasts. A legendary traffic jam ensued as coastal men flocked to show their support, even abandoning a baseball game. Enthusiastic supporters filmed the paraders’ civil liberties. Could this happen here in the Midwest? Of course not! Midwesterners have much higher standards. They might leave an off-season game of lawn-darts, but NEVER baseball.
- FASHION: In the Midwest, we heard the miniskirt was making a coastal comeback. But we know there are only six documented cases of females who look good in mini-skirts, and five of them aren’t allowed into PG-13 movies yet.
- DRIVING: You can tell what part of the US you’re in by observing local car horn technique.
- For example, in New York it’s considered common courtesy to honk continuously at fellow drivers who might otherwise fall asleep at the wheel in their endless search for a place to double park.
- I learned to drive in California. A common California Situation involves four drivers who pull up to a 4-way stop sign. Nobody moves because their therapists have taught them to channel all their aggressions so they don’t get wrinkles. Nobody honks because sounding your horn on the public road is a social faux pas similar to emitting the after-effects of a burrito as you bow to the queen. I think there are California Situations where people have left their cars, gone to In-n-Out for a meal from the secret menu, finished writing their novel, and come back to find all four cars still in position.
- After living in the South where the car horn is a form of friendly greeting, I moved to the Midwest. At first I couldn’t believe how friendly all the other honking drivers were. Then I realized they were signalling their willingness to kill me if it meant they could move a car-length forward during rush hour. Midwest driving is actually a form of competition in which the other drivers say, “Go ahead and crunch a few. We’re got Detroit—we can always make more.”
- FOOD: tips for recent arrivals from…well, anywhere else.
- Midwestern cuisine is based on two essential ingredients: “meat” and “mayonnaise”. (Three if Jello turns out to be an actual food item.) “Meat” comes from animals, although generally not from those which barked or meowed when they were ambulatory. “Meat” has a remarkably short shelf-life, making it a poor choice for winter hoarding during the Midwest winters (which last approximately 9 months of the year, followed by that day they have spring, and two months at 100% humidity where you’re basically breathing water).
- The day we arrived in Illinois, our realtor handed me baby tomato and zucchini plants. I must have looked confused. “Trust me,” she promised. “You need these. Even if you have to put them in pots on your bathroom windowsill. If the word gets out by midsummer that you are plant-less, you’ll become a target for every gardener in a three-state region. Do not think you can politely refuse excess produce. One zucchini plant in Illinois soil produces enough zuchs to feed a third world country. Gardeners will slink up to your porch in the dead of night, armed with sacks of vegetables. It’s also a good idea to keep your car locked and the windows closed during harvest season.”
Sadly, our realtor proved right. When we moved into our lovely old victorian, I didn’t realize the huge trees shading the front and back gardens so beautifully meant nothing of the veggie persuasion would grow. I accidentally mentioned my vegetable-garden-less status in my weekly column for the local paper. Next day we came home to find our front porch overflowing with zucchini that had grown into giant war clubs. The kids fought greenish light-saber duels, while I made every zucchini dish I could think of. The Hub put the winter shutters back up on the porch, and bought heavy-duty locks. The kids kept lookout from the upstairs windows, letting me know if any cars with suspiciously full bags on their backseats were doing slow drive-bys. We were afraid to leave the house, sure that our absence would bring additional zucchini gifts.
Eventually, I got a really good recipe for zucchini bread—freezes well, and also quite useful as projectile if you spot someone slinking up to your porch with a bulging sack. We cleared a small sunny patch and planted tomatoes, which grew so spectacularly we were able to revenge-share them with neighbors (who may or may not have been home at the time).
I just heard a car and looked out to see another pile of facemask fabric donations outside my door. Maybe I need to bake some zucchini bread and see if my throwing aim is still any good.
beth said:
maybe create a hybrid project? wrap loaves in fabric and give them as porch gifts
LikeLiked by 1 person
barbtaub said:
Not saying they’re heavy, but they make good doorstops too.
LikeLiked by 1 person
beth said:
❤
LikeLike
insearchofitall said:
Lots of interesting stuff here. I like the zucchini bread recipe and substitute apple sauce for the oil. I like it better that way. I know about the Midwest. Learned to drive in St. Louis and then learned again on the freeways in California. LA! Insane. I’ve lived in the deep south but never in Chicago. You have all the points correct in behavior. Now if you found a quilting group there and left the fabric on their porch, (it must be all cotton) they would be happy and hide it from other quilters. They are like vultures when someone dies and leaves a fabric stash. BTW, I win the contest. I have the most fabric. 😉 Enjoy the sewing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
barbtaub said:
It was soooooo hard when we moved to the UK and I had to get rid of my stash. I had one of those estate sale companies come in and handle everything because I just couldn’t face it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
insearchofitall said:
I don’t think I can do it either. I’ve deleted subscriptions to online fabric stores so I can’t see all the good stuff I’m not getting. Sigh. I’m worse with books. Bigger sigh. My daughter wants us to leave the country but I can’t figure out how to ship all the books and fabric. To hell with the rest of it. 🙂 Also don’t know who will take us. 😉
LikeLike
robertawrites235681907 said:
Ask and you will receive, Barb. Hilarious. The Zucchini bread recipe looks more like one for banana bread than actual bread. It sounds very nice.
LikeLiked by 1 person
barbtaub said:
Ha! I just ordered zucchini/courgette and heirloom tomato seeds for the greenhouse. They won’t catch me that way again. And the facemask project is nearing end too, luckily.
LikeLiked by 1 person
robertawrites235681907 said:
Our facemask project is just beginning.
LikeLike
Ellen Hawley said:
You need–need, mind you–to read Marge Piercy’s “Attack of the Squash People.” https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/attack-of-the-squash-people/
LikeLiked by 1 person
barbtaub said:
Thanks, I needed that. I can NOT stand how much I love this poem! I’ve always been a fan of Marge Piercy’s “Barbie Doll” but how did I not know “Attack of the Squash People”? Can’t thank you enough.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ellen Hawley said:
Oh, wonderful! I just love it that the poem’s found another fan.
LikeLike
Darlene said:
I have that same zucchini bread recipe on a similar card with almost the same stains! In Alberta (part of Canada’s midwest) if you panted 3 zucchini seeds, you would get enough zucchinis to feed the entire province. I have seen some as big as the one in your picture! One day they would be these cute little vegetables and the next day, a lethal weapon. You must have a mask making factory there on your island!
LikeLiked by 1 person
barbtaub said:
That zucchini bread recipe is single-handedly responsible for preventing inter-neighbor warfare.
LikeLiked by 1 person
noelleg44 said:
You’ve got it! You’ve really got it! I have recipes for zucchini everything – and all the zucchini was donated. I can’t grow a darn thing but my friends think I’m a great repository for all their excess. I even learned how to make a tomato pie!
LikeLiked by 1 person
barbtaub said:
Self-defense veggie growing. It’s a thing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
TanGental said:
The children called the summer 2010 the year of the ratatouille given a combined tomato and courgette glut. They still quail if they see it in restaurants
LikeLiked by 1 person
barbtaub said:
I completely agree with your kids. Ratatouille is the devil’s work.
LikeLike
Jennie said:
This is hilarious, Barb. I know, you can’t make up this stuff. I dearly remember our first zucchini baseball bat.
LikeLiked by 1 person
barbtaub said:
Ours were lightsabers, endlessly battling the dark side and squishy internal bits.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Jennie said:
Haha!
LikeLike