THIS COLUMN WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN WRITER’S BLOCK IN THE JUNE 29, 2016 EDITION OF THE CHRONOTYPE, RICE LAKE, WISCONSIN.
Across all social media platforms there are basic standard demographic profile questions required to complete registration. Identities can be quickly surmised by twitter handles, birthdates, career, relationship status and locations. Hometown. Where are you from? A seemingly easy introductory question and one that up until now, I’ve always thought my answer to be complicated.
From a Southern California childhood to finishing my secondary education in La Crosse, I was ultimately led further north to, as it was described to me, ‘God’s Country’. An avid lover of travel and experience, it’s difficult to say no to any opportunity to discover a new place on this earth, but to choose to settle down in a town with less than 10,000 people? Could a California girl make this home? Make a life in rural Wisconsin?
I’ll be the first to admit that small-town Midwestern living took some time to adjust to, OK, more than some time.
There were of course, vocabulary differences. Can someone please explain to me the difference between a casserole and a hotdish? And do we eat dinner at noon or evening? If I offer you a Coke, you need to tell me what kind. And if I take the freeway and you take the highway, will we end up in the same place? Then there is the weather. Sixty degrees in California requires long underwear; same temperature in Wisconsin means tank tops and flip flops.
What I have ultimately discovered is that given enough time, in the face of drastic cultural differences and temperature shock, relationships continue to form and community is strengthened.
Community. A group of people with something in common. In Rice Lake, and the surrounding communities, it means we celebrate small business success, student achievement, and creative and athletic prowess together. Our friends and neighbors are our leaders, volunteers, teachers, healers, storytellers and most recently, NBA heroes.
Values still mean living simply and with purpose in strong family relationships, embracing hospitality, cooperation and generosity. And in the wake of tragedy, local and beyond, we come together as one and mourn and will never forget.
I have now called this community home for over 12 years, a true transplanted Rice Lake resident. And as suggested when I moved here, it’s proven to be a sacred place for me. So many of my sweetest life moments have occurred right here in the heart of Barron County. And more than ever, I truly believe in the African proverb “Oran a azu nwa.” That it does indeed take a village to raise a child, and in my case, an adult human.
From career opportunities in retail, finance and marketing, to volunteering, higher learning and creative and spiritual discovery, I’ve felt the pulse of Rice Lake firsthand and it is strong.
I am honored to have had this community as part of my foundation and journey toward realizing my dream in writing. To bring clarity when it is needed and responsible reporting of events that are important to this community is important to who I am. I would like the stories that define the values of this place to be heard and told and retold because there is powerful goodness here, and I get to see and hear it everyday. I am humbled and excited by the opportunity to help tell these stories every week–to be that part of this village.
Every time I’m driving north on the freeway, seeking the 143 exit, or heading east on Hwy. 48, vista view of rolling blue hills, cotton-candy clouds in an endless sky, (with my windows all the way down because the temperature hit 50º and the sun is shining for the first time in 6 months), the word ‘home’ always settles deep in my soul.
This last year has been an age of dynamic change for me, and the most authentic picture to date of who I am and what I do right here on this earth has developed. My travels will be sweeter because my safe base is established. I’m a better human being because of this community.
Gently Rise, Softly Call 