Being a stranger in a strange land at Christmastime in old-time Phoenix

There's just something about Christmastime that makes a stranger feel even more isolated, even more alone. Maybe it's the Christmas specials on TV that always seem to emphasize that, no matter what, all that matters is that you're with friends and family.

Speaking for myself, I chose to leave my friends and family, and move to a place that seemed so alien that at times it felt unreal. Don't get me wrong, I left Minneapolis because I hated the snow and cold, and wanted to see what the rest of the world was like, and I was happy in Phoenix, and still am.

Every Christmastime the feeling comes back to me, year after year. I haven't seen snow in Minneapolis since 1982, when I made the mistake of visiting for Christmas, and was very glad to be back home, in my little apartment in Phoenix. But the sentiment remains.

If you grew up in Phoenix, you take so much for granted. The lack of snow at Christmastime, the fact that cactuses grow right up out of the ground even in the middle of winter, the palm trees, the oranges growing right on trees in people's yards. I have a lot of friends who grew up here, and if I mention how strange these things are to me, I know that it makes no sense to them. They saw it every year of their lives growing up there.

Being a stranger in a strange land meant that I had to try to deal with it, to roll with it, to act as if it were perfectly normal. Intellectually, I knew that I was in the right place, but it still hurt. I made it a point to make friends with locals, with people who were perfectly comfortable in this strange land. Personally, I felt as if I'd landed on Mars.

Of course the Phoenix that I saw really wasn't all that different from Minneapolis. People drove the same cars, most of the businesses were the same, with only slightly different names. There were a few words that I had to learn, like how to pronounce Mogollon, but I spoke the language. The traffic laws were slightly different, but I learned them. Looking back, it might have been uncomfortable at times, but it wasn't really that bad.

Today I'm thinking of people who didn't have it as easy as me in old-time Phoenix. People who came to Phoenix without even knowing the language, without understanding so many things that the locals knew, like how and where to hitch up your horse, that sort of thing. And I'd like to believe that even back then there were people who reached out to strangers, who gave a helping hand as needed, and at the very least didn't make these people feel unwanted.

Phoenix is my home, and hopefully always will be. I call myself a "born again local", because I know it so well, and anything else would feel strange now. But I'll never forget what it means to be a stranger, so while you can't sleep on my couch, or borrow my car, I'll smile and wave to you. Welcome to Phoenix!

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