Potluck

Back in Wisconsin, the news that I was moving to Texas was greeted in either of two ways: excitement or revulsion.

To some, Texas is another country. Cowboys and bar-be-que and wide open spaces. For many a shivering Northerner, it also promises lots of heat.

To others, Texas is another country. Rednecks and pick-up trucks and people that vote for George Bush. For many a skiing Northerner, it also promises lots of sweating.

But, I was excited to move.

I would consider Madison my first real home. It was the first place I chose to live. At several points, when life or graduate school or both looked bleak, it was the place I chose to stay.

It was also a place where I finally grew up, an immeasurably fun, but often painful process. It was a place of lessons learned.

And as my last year at UW progressed, I increasingly came to feel that as the place of lessons learned, it was impossible for Madison to be the place of lessons practiced. Regardless of where I eventually landed, it would exciting to start over, hopefully with a lot more wisdom.

That's not to say all landing spots are equal. Chicago. Minneapolis. Boulder. New Orleans. Portland. Heck, even Austin.

Objectively, this place sucks. It is suburban sprawl personified. There are no real neighborhoods. There are defined areas that vary by housing type and the wealth of residents, but you'd never apply the terms: artsy, yuppie, blue-collar, alternative, gritty, gay, etc. Instead you have: rich or poor; old or new; black or white; and because this is a college town, student or non-student. It is essentially Long Island without any of the quaint downtowns like Huntington, Northport or Port Jefferson. For Sconnies, I live in a very large version of Middleton.

What has been pleasantly surprising, however, is how friendly my colleagues are. Knowing I was new to town, Rich Woodward invited me to his house last night for the monthly Brazos Progressives potluck to meet some people outside the department. After the sun went down, it was bearable to sit outside and trade stories of previous places lived and things to do in Aggieland. It's a start, you know.

Someone even brought a six pack of Leine's.