My grandparents were the first of their families to be born in the United States. As my grandparents assimilated into the U.S. culture, my family’s Finnish heritage was lost. Unfortunately, my grandfather and grandmother never passed the Finnish language on to my mother because they were embarrassed that they didn’t speak English very well when they were younger. Now, all that is left of our Finnish heritage is a few words that my grandmother taught me before passing on.

The old metaphor about the U.S. being a ‘melting pot’ has given way to a new metaphor about the U.S. being a ’salad bowl’ where ingredients mix together but keep their individual characteristics. The U.S. has truly become a mosaic of distinct cultures where children can maintain their cultural uniqueness while embracing the U.S. culture as appropriate.

I witnessed exactly what this ’salad bowl’ metaphor is all about this weekend just while going to a couple of parties with friends. One party was both a farewell and a celebration of time spent here in the United States. While we were saying our goodbyes to a friend who was headed back to Italy, we were also commemorating another friend’s 10th year here in the U.S. The friend who had been in the states for 10 years spoke about how she managed to stay so long in one place after moving from country to country for most of her life. Essentially, she stayed so long because she could be as close to her culture or as far apart from her culture as she wanted at any given time. She could find others who shared her cultural heritage, or she could share her cultures with others who had diverse backgrounds.

At another dinner party, I heard both the Italian and English language spoken freely. Of the couple hosting the party, one was American while the other was Italian. So, the mixture of friends consisted of individuals from both cultures. It was funny to witness how everyone embraced their own cultural uniqueness while enjoying the other culture’s distinction.

Although I’ve come to realize that I am rather awkward in most social circumstances, I’ve come to enjoy being in social situations where everything is awkward anyways…situations where half a sentence is spoken in one language and half in another. Situations where guests at a dinner party might represent countries on every continent. Situations where people embrace the fact that their differences are exactly what make them feel like they’re at home.

Streets lined with U-hauls. Cars, trucks and taxis double parked on busy, narrow streets. Rush hour traffic jams on a Sunday afternoon. Yes, that is what it is like when the students come back to Boston.

Labor Day weekend marks the return of the students. Much like a pilgrimage for a patron saint, the students make their way to the city to move into their new residences and start at one of the colleges of their choice. With well over 40 colleges and universities in the city and its environs, students have their pick of the litter.

Now, I don’t know why I never paid attention to how the city empties after May and then fills back up again after Labor Day. Perhaps I am immune to the chaos as I come from a college town myself. However, for some reason this year, I just couldn’t ignore it. The building that I live in posted signs a week beforehand to announce that Sunday and Monday would be busy moving days. U-Hauls were lined up down every single street that I drove down this weekend. Teenagers…wait…new college students…. were spotted walking around town with their mommies and daddies in tow. And parents were spotted carrying boxes from Ikea along with college dorm room art on pretty much every street.

So, yes, it’s official. Students are back in Boston!

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Raising the Roof

Yup. That’s me raising the roof to my house in Florida. I guess I should say ‘my former house’ in Florida. Lots of labor and lots of love went into building that house, and this year…I sold it. 

When I tell people that I built my first house, they usually don’t realize what I mean. They think, sure…you hired a contractor who hired people to build your house. That could not be further from the truth. Here is what really happened.

After an endless search, my mother and father found a nice little piece of property in a quiet community on the northwest side of the city. We purchased the last lot in the neighborhood. However, since the community was developed several years prior to our purchase, my lot was overrun with trees, bushes and vines. Now, we could have hired someone to come and clear the land, but what fun would that be? No, my father decided that it would be much more practical if we cleared the land ourselves. That way…we could save the trees we wanted to save…practical.

Laying the foundation

Several months after we purchased the land, we finally finished clearing it. Of course, after you finish clearing the land, it is time to begin work on the foundation. Right?  Well, right after you level everything off and extract the stumps, you can begin to work on the foundation. Now surely we hired someone to dig the foundation, pour the footer, mix the mortar…yada yada…?  If you think we hired people to do any of that, then you haven’t met my father. No, we hand dug the foundation and laid the block. I personally mixed so much mortar that I had blisters covering my hands.

Framing the house

O.k. so, foundation done. Now, on to laying the floor and framing the house. Certainly we would hire someone to help us frame the house. Wrong again. On to raising the roof…  I personally carried trusses over to my brother, father and uncle. Luckily my uncle and cousin helped us to lift the trusses. Otherwise, I may have been sleeping under the stars. The insulation? We did that. The floors? That too. The roof, the kitchen, the bathrooms, the cabinets, the painting? Yes, all of it.

So, did we hire contractors for anything? Certainly…we called in contractors to hang the dry wall, install the plumbing and wire the electrical. Now, if our patience had not been wearing thin at that point, I imagine that my father would have done all of that work on his own as well. I love my dad.

It's a lot of fun to lay shingles on your roof in July

My beautiful little house in Florida

Of course, it sounds like a really long drawn out process. It was, but it was all worth it. One day as we were finalizing the interior of my home, one of my neighbors came by to talk with my father. She asked if she could get a tour of the home that ‘love’ built. We nearly burst into tears when she said this. My neighbors realized that this gift from my parents came straight from the heart.

When I think back on it now, I feel proud of what we accomplished. Not many people can say that they built their own home. As crazy as it sounds, I actually miss hanging out with my father and brother on Saturday and Sunday listening to NPR while hammering a few nails into wood. And now that I have sold that beautiful little home, all I can hope is that the new family living in it loves it as much as I do.

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I sincerely admire those are active in their communities. You know, those individuals who truly get behind a cause and make things happen. Growing up in a small town means that everyone always know what you are doing. It’s a blessing and curse I suppose. But, if channeled properly in today’s age of social media/networking/etc… you can really make an impact.

The other day, I received a message on Facebook from an old high school band buddy. Yeah, don’t laugh. I was in band, attended band camp and played the flute. Well, this particular friend is extremely active in the community where we grew up. What was so great about his message was that he was trying to promote an effort to support the construction of a Center for Performing Arts and Education in the downtown area. I’ve always felt that Tallahassee might be the cultural black hole of the universe. So, what a great great great way to build up the cultural atmosphere in our community.

Then, I really started to think about many of the people that I know back home in Florida. I know so many wonderful people who are really involved in our community. Some volunteer an endless number of hours to various charities, some organize volunteers, some are teachers, some dedicate their time to helping members of the international community feel at home in a town that is far from their home, some are actively engaged in the thriving university community, some are engaged in local government and some just want to make sure that the local environment will be clean and healthy for generations to come.

Although I may not live in Florida any longer, it is my home. I want my hometown to be a wonderful place for my parents, brother, sister-in-law, niece and friends. I want to go home knowing that people care about the town where I grew up. I am so glad that I know so many people who feel the same way.

http://www.erikawatters.com/