The Same But Different
My neighbor wants it dead. Unlike me, she grew up here in rural Wisconsin and has no fondness for groundhogs that aggressively burrow in places they aren't welcome. Emerging from my house yesterday, I was startled as I came eye to eye with one. Surprised, both of us froze. In retrospect, I had a clear shot at the rather large, well-fed target, if I were inclined that way and possessed the requisite firearm. I don't try to hide my implicit urban orientation here, but I try not to broadcast it either. In the hardware store parking lot the other day, the person in the car next to me enthusiastically asked "what part of the city are you from?" Caught off guard, I didn't know how to answer. Was I about to be admonished for bringing my city sensibilities to the country? Before I could respond, he exclaimed "I just retired and moved up here. I used to work for the Chicago's water department. I saw your license plate (Illinois) and city sticker (Chicago)." "My grandmother grew up in Westby" is my usual quick response when someone asks what brought me here, omitting the second half of that statement "and left as soon as she could." With my credibility established, we can continue with our small talk and whatever transaction needs conducting. This same dynamic is at play when I'm speaking with a potential client. They're looking for someone like them, who would shoot the groundhog and think nothing of it, knowing from lifelong experience that they're doing the right thing, rather than question if there isn't a way to trap and relocate it to different habitat. Oh, foolish man, I know my neighbor is thinking. I can see it in her half-smile and kind eyes.
