It’s impossible not to write about the USA just now. Europeans must forgive me.
In 1965, poverty-stricken in London, a daughter just arrived,
my career (That ironic word!) still fledgling if not egg-bound, I decided I’d
like to live/work in the USA. VR supported me even though – for family reasons
- it would be far more of a wrench for her. Getting there lasted a year.
Eventually I convinced the US Embassy I would not live on the earnings of a
prostitute. I flew out just after Christmas, stopping for an hour in Reykjavik.
Which is in Iceland.
Many Brits envied me but for the wrong reasons. They thought
I was going for the money. I wasn’t. Just as well since I lost money on the six-year
stay.
Why did I go? Well, I was, and am, a wordsmith and my
working vocabulary expanded enormously. Words I roll round my tongue even now.
One job I applied for (Glad I didn’t get it.) was in Duluth. Just say it, it
ain’t the Home Counties, Pavements became sidewalks. I watched the Pirates play
the Cardinals. I yearned for the Grand Tetons even if I never got there.
I went for spoken wit. Novels suggested that ordinary
working stiffs in the US spoke a terse language that appealed to me. Not all
did, of course, but some were word perfect.
For central heating. I’d have died without it.
For friendliness (noticeably lacking in London). The idea
sounded like tourist office fluff but it happened within one hour of my
arrival.
For space. In my apartment (which wasn’t a flat) and all the
way west to San Francisco, where I subsequently worked for a week.
Orange Man has poisoned these memories. I want them back.
More follows.
* Daughter PP (Professional Phlebotomist), aged 3.
LOL, I'm sure you wouldn't want to still have any memories of Duluth...! I went to UW in N. Wisconsin, and Superior had been on my 'look' list and instantly eliminated after a visit. Even now I think of the N.Wind across the lake and then 150+step outside staircase to the upper part of the University. This is back in the day when skirts were required attire for women students. And, there isn't a pair of tights thick enough to shield against wind off of Lake Superior in January. Wisconsin-eese, and the Minnesota 'Hey der', still leaks out if I am in Wisconsin for too long. But, I treasure my 10 years in the natural beauty of the land, the history, but not the accents or the language. 'Hey Der!" from Chicagoland, Sandi
ReplyDeleteSandi: This is that other story I mentioned.
ReplyDeleteFor megabucks I accepted a job in Wheaton, Illinois in mid-winter. Had to park my car outside overnight. On Monday morning I turned the ignition key and the engine went "uh" and that was that. As I walked to work the fluid in my nose froze. When I arrived at the office I was told I would have get my hair cut, it was too "foreign" as it was. Also get myself measured for the company blazer. I resigned on Thursday and waived the right to be paid for the three days I'd worked.
The guy who had hired me said my reasoning (for resigning) was "messy". Also that I'd midjudged Wheaton because this was a "messy" time of year. I wasn't persuaded and in any case I'd discovered that the town of Wheaton - a stronghold of the Baptist church - had no bars..
LOL...Yep, then they wore their pearls to take out the garbage...LOL. YIKES...and grins, love your views of America. I wonder how much it has changed since then. I have to drive through Elmhurst usually once a month and it is so congested, and so many shops with signs in foreign languages, I can't imagine that pink dresses and pearls still exist there.
DeleteYou dodged a bullet, my friend.
DeleteColette: I like to think it was the Wheaton lot who came off best. I could've been a whole heap of trouble for them.
DeleteWhere was your favorite place in the US? Where did you stay the longest? What did you love about it or not like about the experience?
ReplyDeleteOrange Man has poisoned everything.
robin andrea: In the end it's people that matter, not places. One cannot relate to landscapes. I have tried to answer your questions in my following post: The other US: Listening for the heartbeat.
ReplyDelete