Sometimes It's Tough

 I live in the Midwest, but I am not a Midwesterner. I'm a displaced New Yorker.

This occasionally makes me feel a tad out of place. 

Like when I first opened a bank account here. A pleasant but slow-talking young banker chatted about the weather-- at length-- while I tapped my fingernails impatiently on his desk, waiting for him to get down to business.

One time I accidentally (it was very windy) let a door close on the guy coming out of the coffee shop behind me. When I said "So sorry, didn't see you!" he just smiled and said (cue the Minnesota accent), "Oh, that's ok. I made it through!" Naturally I raced to my car, in the sure belief that I had just encountered an axe murderer.

And once when I was trying to return some damaged floorboards to a store, and encountering some resistance from the manager, the manager said I seemed to be getting "a little heated."  "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, 'HEATED?'" I responded- quite reasonably, in my view.

Then there was last Sunday, at church.

The young assistant pastor's sermon was about hope, and  not giving up in the face of discouragement.  "I'd like to tell you a story about someone who didn't give up, even though it seemed everything was against him," he began. I'm thinking, great, a sermon about Job.

But he never mentioned Job. Instead, he went on to tell the story about the Boston Red Sox finally defeating the New York Yankees in the World Series of 2005. "The Yankees wer up by three games. It looked bad for the Red Sox. But did they give up? No they did not!"

"Now, I know we all hate the Yankees," he went on. "After all, it's fun to hate the Yankees! Am I right?" Smiling nods all around.

Well. I want to fit in here, but there are limits.

So after Mass I approached the young priest in the parking lot. 

"Interesting sermon, Father," I said.

He looked down (he had to, since he's six foot and I'm five two) and, once he recognized me, burst out laughing. "Oh no! You guys were here!  Of course!"

I assured him that all was well- "We understand, Father, some people just don't get it,. They're you know--" I just tapped my forehead.

Well, I guess it's all right. If I were a Twins fan, I think I'd probably hate everybody.