I am, rather unfortunately, born from a Californian. My mom was born in Santa Rosa, Calif., with the warm sun and gentle breeze smiling through the trees. This influences the sports teams I follow; I am a San Francisco 49ers fan (though, you may know me as the insufferable Chiefs enthusiast), along with the San Fran Giants and L.A. Lakers. So, yes, I love my mother. I love my family. I love my teams. However, that is where my love ends; I can only view the West Coast and, furthermore, every other American geographical region with thinly veiled suspicion and disregard.
Let us begin with the South. Not too long ago, Mr. Waldman asked me if I wanted to look at Southern universities during my college process. My response? No way.
Many Southerners tout “Southern charm” as one of their main attributes. Down South, people say “Ma’am,” “Sir,” occasionally, there’ll be a “bless your heart.” They pretend that they are this charming, charismatic group of people – especially compared to the likes of New England. It’s all a farce. Sure, in New England, we shove each other around, are brisk and sometimes crass – but we’ll hold open the door. We’ll grumble and complain about it the whole way, but we will help each other out. Southerners? The charm is a veil, a mask.
Don’t even get me started on the incessant heat, either. As I am writing this mid-September, it is 94° in Birmingham, Alabama. 94°! Are Alabamians living in a state, or an oven? Each individual is melting like the Wicked Witch of the West. Meanwhile, in my New England town, it is currently a beauteous 68° outside. Enough to feel warmed by the sun, to feel a gentle breeze twirling my hair, but not to the point of a blistering sunburn. Here, we brave the cold with strength and admirable power. The winter doesn’t break true New Englanders: it invigorates us.
West Coast: the land of sun-warmed beaches, glittering capital cities, and slow walkers. Have you ever walked behind a Californian? I would recommend that you don’t. Each step they take is about ten times slower than a snail (this has been scientifically proven). When you’re out for a morning walk, West Coasters will call out to you and flash you a smile. It’s so disturbing. In New England, unless I know the person on the trail next to me, I get to enjoy the complete silence and peace that comes with a lack of human contact. Instead, in the West? They wave at you as if you’re both in a shared cult, and then attempt to make small talk. Excuse me? Why? What’s the purpose? Both of our mornings are made much worse by this conversation. I’m losing dopamine by the second.
This paragraph is dedicated to my fellow high school seniors. My message to you all (not y’all): What are we doing?! Too many of my friends are being seduced by the heat of the South, the friendliness of the West, and the abject strangeness of the Midwest. Do not heed the traitorous calls, I beg of you! Protect yourselves! New England has more to offer than any of these other ridiculous states! Imagine how, in early autumn, the leaves change colors, turning the trees into balayages of reds and oranges! Smell the cold air of winter as the ground becomes covered in thick white snow! Watch the trees bloom in spring, with pink flowers decorating all surfaces! My friends, my comrades, my peers – my fellow New Englanders: there is no place like home. Do not listen to the call of malicious regions trying to steal you from your rightful abode. Remember, New England is, and always will be, superior.
