Jersey Girl...Ahhh...No

Permit me, please, to vent. This may get lengthy. To fully understand my position here, you must attempt to put yourself in my shoes. Where to begin? How's this? I am not from New Jersey. I grew up an army brat and lived overseas or in the Southern U.S. most of my life. To say living here is culture shock is an understatement. I still have not settled into the mindset that I may very well live the rest of my life here and still cling to dreams of leaving. A little more perspective...I've lived here now for 15 years! Ouch!
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My husband is from New Jersey and has a very warm and loving family. It's not so much the intimate relationships I've found here that cause so much stress (although they even admit that their mode of operation is quite different than that of my family - for better or worse, not debating that here), it's the interaction among people here who do not know one another. It's truly bizarre to me...totally foreign...and in my opinion flat out rude, uncaring, and deflating. As an example (partially anyway), I'm sharing my experience taking Ryan to swim camp for 2 weeks as a microcosm of life here.
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Let me set the stage. There is ONE driveway in and out and, no exaggeration, HUNDREDS of people dropping off and picking up their kids. Aside from trying to get in a lane to get through the Lincoln Tunnel (heading into NY), this is the most cut-throat experience I've had in NJ to date and these are Mom's in their minivans and SUV's (note the SUV alive and well in The Garden State). There is no other place to park as this school is off a fairly large road. You have no choice, but to park in their lot.

Here, I am parked. I very much want to get into the line of cars seen here in front of me (to conform to the traffic pattern that the school would like everyone to follow at an attempt at order. Needless to say, there are many who think they are more important than others and buck the system). Okay, we are all trying to get out, yet, some people pretend they don't see you (and the other hundred folks) trying to get out. I inch forward and look at them for confirmation that they will let me out. They inch forward to let me know I will not be getting in front of them and not ONCE look my way. I do this over and over and over again just trying to get my car out from the spot in which I've parked. Rob was with me on this particular day and kept saying to me, "Get in there! Don't let her do that to you. Uhh, this if fucked." Like I said, he's from these parts, I'm not.

This is the view behind me. See the red vehicle in the back. That's another line of cars wanting to get out and that's a especially long line since there is more parking in the back. I call that the Netherworld. If you get stuck parking back there, you may as well pitch a tent because it can easily take you 30 minutes just to get out of the school's one driveway. Did I mention that it's one driveway in and out?

Apparently these are for decoration.

These are the guys "directing" traffic. Hmmmm, good job fellas. No, really your hair looks great and yes, she was just totally checking you out. Would you mind telling the bitch in the car next to me to let me out into the line of traffic already?

Finally, we get to the end of the driveway. I'd really like to make a left, but guess what, I can't. More anxiety, because now I have to go through the same scenario and hope that the person in the car at the end of the driveway is from somewhere else, like Ohio, so that they are kind enough to let me out onto the major road. Otherwise, the NJ folks behind me will lay on their horns (not kidding either) because I haven't rammed my way into the traffic with my kids in the car. Not wondering why we have the worst insurance rates in the country anymore, eh?

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Sidebar: Rob just came back from Ohio and said, I quote, "People are so nice there. It's just weird. I kept thinking, "What do they want from me."" I replied, "No, it's weird that you find someone being nice weird or that you assume they want something from you just for being nice." He's starting to get it.

Because we all had to turn right (we're crawling).

I'd love to turn around so I'm headed the direction I need to go, but now we have these all along the road.

No U. NO, NO YOU! I am never shopping here because they wouldn't even let me turn around!!!!

This one I understand, it's some one's house. But you get the point.

Finally, we reach the circle (rotary) more anxiety, more cut throat driving required...can I get in? Oh damn, can I get out? Please look at me fellow driver and indicate if you plan on just driving me off the road.

The traffic (not really moving) on the other side of the circle...I'm exhausted just looking at it. It's only rage that will help me finish today's blog.

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So, Betsy and I have discussed this at length. Her rude and unfriendly neighbors. Road rage while walking. The difficulties of making friends here.... And Betsy, in her strength and wisdom says we need to lift our chins and be who we are. I feel renewed in that spirit to have her here, however, I'm curious (sorry Betsy) if she'll feel that way after 15 years. I pray not for my beautifully warm hearted friend. For far too long I've been told, "you're too sweet." "Don't let people push you around like that." "You have to fight back." It's so tiring. Why? Why can't people just be civil? Why do I have to change me to have someone "respect" me?

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Here's a story that I think applies:

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A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as if as soon as one problem was solved a new one arose.

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Her mother took her to the kitchen. The mother filled three pots with water. In the first, she placed carrots. In the second she placed eggs. And the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil without saying a word. About twenty minutes later, she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she said, "Tell me what you see." "Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied. (You known the tone of voice.) She brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did, and noted that they felt soft. She then asked her to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg inside.Finally, she asked her to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma.

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The daughter then asked, "So, what's the point, mother?" (Remember the tone of voice.) Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity - boiling water - but each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid center. But, after sitting through the boiling water, its insides had become hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water...they had changed the water.

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"Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot , an egg, or a coffee bean?"

New Jersey is my boiling water. I desperately want to be coffee and show kindness, thoughtfulness, simple manners that show respect and hope that this giving spirit takes hold and spreads like a happy virus. But, if I'm honest, I think I'm an egg boiled so long I might bust through the shell. I'm ever working on it though. I'm still trying to be coffee although right now it might taste a bit bitter.