tradition vs the world

Just got back yesterday afternoon from our annual summer camping trip. For some reason, this year went really remarkable smooth. We all got sleep each night, no major injuries were incurred (only one minor burn and three bandaid-able offenses), plus, we stayed basically within budget (meaning we didn't have to pay for an unexpected motel stay because our camping site got rained out).

It's becoming a bit of a tradition that we take the kids to the ocean, and at least overnight camping in the woods. We drive up to the Forks region, pick a site nearby and used the daylight hours to tide pool and hike. Last couple years have been a bit less planned than this year, but the itinerary has basically been the same.

As in, we march them through the moss-covered forests, ooh and awe at the slugs and elk, try and convince the third of our family under 10 that mud is evil, run away from the incoming tide (over and over and over and over til our pants are simply too waterlogged to run any more), climb through the vast array of drift wood washed up to high tide mark (AKA: the best playground ever!) til finally collapsing next to the campfire we've (AKA: dad) has just spent half the night on and gorge ourselves with cheap hotdogs and marshmellows.

All in all, not the worst vacation ever. Even when you consider that I personally have spent two weeks perusing eye-witness vacation guides to the Hawaii islands.

It's odd how everything not-home can look so appealing. Just, better in almost every way. That's what I like best about summer vacation I think. It gives me a chance to catch my breath and remember what surrounds me every day of the year. Which isn't half bad.

I mean, really. Ocean approximately a day trip away? Rain forests and mountain ranges. Locally grown produce (not everyone can find local blueberries, you know?). Raptors, elk, sea life.... slugs? Right? We each live where we live and it's all pretty amazing and unique to that place.

Which brings me to what today is, naturally. I've been thinking a lot about heritage and culture, and how, as a white American, I feel pretty darn boring sometimes.... okay, most of the time. There is absolutely nothing exotic about me. Really. But, I think as I've kinda become fascinated with other cultures and tried to learn and absorb as much about them as I can (without ever really going anywhere, mind you), I've become more aware of what makes my perspective and life style and (dare I say it) culture what it is. Fireworks on Fourth of July for example. Christmas lighting festivals. Trick or treating. The special preschool songs that we all know. Those every day things I pass on to my kids without even thinking about it because they were passed on to me. How to tell yarrow from fern (who doesn't know this?), how you talk to someone older than you, what burgersmeasly consists of, yankee doodle..... I can't even put down half of what ran through my head, but it was a new thought for me. That I have a cultural identity and place in the world as part of a larger whole. That I'm not just a singular ugly American. Rather, I exist in this plurality.

Yeah. So, I'm totally spending Christmas in Paris.