When we moved to Montana it was -10° outside and 18” of snow were accumulating. Needless to say, the entire state seemed to be in hibernation. For months, we walked our Harry dog and hiked our trails and made our way out to the grocery store in relative silence. The kids and their staff were our only communication partners. Not that we didn’t try to connect. It just took “some time” to meet the natives.
In that time, I was able to watch them in their natural habitat and was surprised to find the following differences between their behaviors and the ones I’d seen exhibited in California. Were these differences CA vs. the rest of the world? Helena-based? Investigations continue.
1. The Wave
Looooong before we made actual contact, we would get The Wave. From cars, actual people would raise their hand and give it a slight side-tilt in our direction. In the beginning, it was returned with a subtle chin-lift. One can not be too careful when approached by a stranger. As the weeks wore on, I added a broad grin. Then, I tried to California the situation. With a neighbor, I added a verbal greeting and asked after their health. Nothing. It was as if I’d disappeared. This was two months in to our residence. Now, seven months later, we can’t walk down the street without being flagged down by a neighbor or called out to from a car. Usually the car callers tell us how cute Harry dog is. True. The neighbors have coalesced into actual name-face combinations and we’ve found a few other “senior” athletes. Of course, I knew their dogs’ names long before I could tell you who was who. But, now we’re here. At the Lair, someone referred to this as the Small Town Wave and solved most of my riddles. At 30,000 residents, Helena is a small town … a small down with a symphony.
2. Bird Dialect
In California, the chickadees say:
CHEESE
bur-ger
…
CHEESE
bur-ger
In Montana, they say:
BIG SKY
coun-try
…
BIG SKY
coun-try
It’s all part of regional bird dialects. I noticed them first in Germany where I was unable to speak with a resident Mourning Dove, my California accent getting in the way entirely. Here, the Mourning Doves start out fine, then gargle the last “whoooo whooo” as if they’re being strangled by a cartoon cat. I looked, no cats. Even stranger were the screaming crows who followed me on a hike while I tried to locate the person in trouble. Then I got back to California last month and realized that they’re all screaming now. Now I’m caught wondering where the trend started, and why. There are also birds I was unused to seeing in California, at least in bulk. Magpies are everywhere here, especially now that Fall is coming. The most beautiful species is the Western Bluebird: It’s as if a hand clipped a portion of a cartoon sky and gave it wings. They are exquisite, and I feel grateful at every sighting.
3. Body Image
Just like everywhere else on our big, blue planet there is every body type imaginable here in Montana. But, unlike my experiences elsewhere, I honestly see no body shaming, no hiding of bodies by camouflaging clothing, no spy-like entrances into bakeries and ice cream stores. It’s as if everyone were OK in their skin. Maybe they’re not. But large or small, everyone is simply Out There with whoever they are. Same goes for hair (it’s totally come-as-you-are) and clothing (if it works for you, it works). I would say the same for cars, as there is no One Montana Car, but the overpopulation of king-cab diesel trucks (even for folks not towing trailers) is entirely noticeable. The benefit of all this is that I can walk out with my wet hair, old t-shirt, get into my 2007 mini-van, and drive to the local brewery unaccosted by accusing stares. Aaaah.
4. Driving
Speaking of driving to the local brewery: Folks drive more here than in California. Whoever coined the old phrase, “Nobody walks in LA” has clearly never been to Helena. No. One. Walks. The closest Target to our old house was two-miles away and I made that trek regularly. Here, the Safeway is a scant bit farther and I’d never think to make the journey on foot. Part of this is weather (when it’s -10° out you’d freeze before you reached your destination), part of this is relative distances (once you’ve picked up your bottle of wine it may be 40 miles before you get to your host’s for dinner), but most of this is inertia. Which is funny because …
5. Work-Life Balance
Oh my good graciousness, do these people love to recreate! It’s nothing for folks to leave work, go for a two-hour ride, then head home for dinner. Every day. All summer long. In fact, it starts as soon as the snow begins to melt just the slightest bit. Whole families get together for a pre-dinner stroll or bike. Great groups gather at trailheads. Near the end of summer, the days are so long that you can dine, ride, stretch, and still be in bed by 10. What makes this all possible is that folks work their 40 then get their butts out of the office. As the state capital, we have quite an abundance of government offices. The streets are crowded until 8:15 every morning and again at 5:00 each evening. Rush hour lasts thirty minutes. In the vast government parking lots, many cars have bikes attached for lunch or pre-dinner rides. Scratch that. Not just in government parking lots but all over our fair city. On weekends it’s even wilder. From mid-May through October a (free!) shuttle leaves downtown three times a day taking riders and hikers to far flung trailheads. The shuttle holds 24 bikes and it’s usually full. The athletes head back into town and straight to a bakery (of which there are many) or to the local for a …
5. Beer
Montana grows grain and turns it in to some of the most amazing micro-brew I’ve tasted outside San Luis Obispo. Though there are many bars, what Montanans really love are their local breweries. Helena has two small and one large. Blackfoot River is closest to our house (one-third mile if you go down the dirt path) and my favorite. Local kids refer to it as The Popcorn Shop because that’s what they serve alongside a daily rotation of ten brews. (As a brewery, children are allowed to join their families. In fact, between the “brewery” and “restaurant” designations I’ve yet to see a watering hole that doesn’t accept kids.) The next closest (half-mile down the trails) is Ten Mile Creek “a somewhat organized community.” Ten Mile is next to the Hawthorne Wine Bar, if you’re so interested, and they share a front patio. Though the Hawthorne serves food, the breweries don’t and you’re allowed to bring in whatever you’d like to pair with your beer. This all creates an incredibly intimate vibe. I’ve seen retirement parties completely CostCo catered and young kids with sammiches from home. The third, largest, is Lewis & Clark. Never been there, but they sell cases of L&C cans at Safeway. I have driven there.
6. Neighborly
It’s all very neighborly here. By this I mean that folks are kind to each other and help out when the need arises. You’d never leave someone at the side of the road with a broken car — in the winter it could be fatal. There aren’t a ton of locked doors, auto or otherwise. Neighborhood potlucks are held on wide back lawns and I’ve already spur-of-the-moment babysat for the kiddo next door. Dogs run off leash near our house, where the trail system starts. I’ve tried to snag one, but they always go back to their owners. Whatever.
7. Dogs
They tried to issue us our trail dog as we entered the state, but my car was already full of pets. Now that we’re nine months into this adventure, I don’t think Harry dog would allow another canine in the house. We seem to have missed our current opportunity to have the regulation Lab/Aussie/cattledog-arrangement as part of our outdoor life. Honestly, if you don’t have a yellow Lab they make you pay a tax. And, they don’t like taxes here. At all.
8. Taxes
There is no sales tax.
9. Community Means Community
Maybe this accounts for the fact that those who serve our community (teachers, police, grocery store baggers, busboys, carpenters, …) actually live in our community. Our beloved 7th grade science teacher lives right across the street from the school. In his own house. A house that isn’t subsidized by the school district so that he can be within driving distance of his place of work. Imagine. There is no sales tax and property tax is the same percentage as CA. It’s a miracle, considering …
10. Schools Work for our Kids
They truly work, and without me pestering the system for the support they need. Our daughter started in public school last week and I approached the situation as I would have in CA: Like a starving wolverine who has just had their last meal ripped from them and dangled above their paws just out of reach. Then, I got schooled. Before I could say a word, the principal said he had assigned a para-educator to shadow The Blonde from the bus and through her entire day for the first two weeks, just to make sure she got to the right places at the right times. He scheduled our girl for an hour each morning with a resource teacher trained by the program my daughter has been attending for almost two years. On site there are four (four!) additional staff from the same program who offer both drop- and push-in services to kiddos just like mine. And I didn’t have to ask for any of it, it was all offered. Kiddos are taught the signs of depression and how to approach peers who may need help. They are in classes with students on the spectrum as well as with other social challenges. During an assembly last year one kiddo vocalized for the entire ninety minutes and not one student said one word about it. It must have something to do with #3 (above), or maybe #6. Perhaps there are just enough #7 to calm all tides.
…
Whatever way you investigate this grand social experiment called Helena, it works for us. We’re happy we moved. We miss our California friends immeasurably, but what we’ve gained in family solidity cannot be quantified.
My heart going boom, boom, boom — I am home.
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