The story goes that a true Cockney must be born within the sound of Bow Bells – or, more precisely, within the sound of the bells of St. Mary-le-Bow church. Nice try! St. Mary-le-Bow church was destroyed in the Great Fire of London in 1666, and although it was eventually rebuilt, it was destroyed again during the Blitz in 1941. Actually, there’s hasn’t been a maternity ward in the East End of London for nearly fifty years. Likewise, it’s said that only a true Southerner can tell the difference between a Redneck and White Trash. I’ve personally put that one to the test and have discovered that the Mason-Dixon Line has got nothing to do with either one. You don’t have to look very hard to find Rednecks as far north as the Arctic Circle, and if you’re looking for White Trash, check out the Mall – any Mall – anywhere – including France.
My point is that these labels, Cockney, Southerner, Boston Brahmin, Highlander, Romany Gypsy etc. etc. might refer to a physical location, but they are also a state of mind, a way of doing business that is recognizable regardless of where you live.
For example, the West Coast of North America is populated by people who are markedly different from those of the rest of the continent. Obviously, these are the folks stuck somewhere between a range of coastal mountains and the Pacific Ocean. (Actually, it’s everybody from the Whistler/Blackcomb Ski Resort in Canada south to San Diego, California.) But it’s also an attitude that transcends time and space. Therefore, as a public service, I have compiled a list that will help you find out if you are a West Coaster — even if you don’t live there. FYI, I have never heard of Jeff Foxworthy. I do not know he is a comedian. I have never seen his “You Might be a Redneck” routine on HBO, YouTube or anywhere else. Any resemblance between it and this blog is purely coincidental.
So, you might be a West Coaster if:
You’re on a first name basis with more than one barista.
Your yoga pants have actually been to yoga.
Nobody you know has an opinion about snow tires.
Dogs and cats have birthday parties, too.
Your lawyer’s a witch.
Swag is a biodegradable lunch bag and a reusable coffee cup.
You carry your own filtered drinking water.
Your roommate was the best man and the maid of honor at your cousin’s wedding.
Your winter wardrobe is a scarf.
You know how to get to at least one Vegan restaurant – on the bus.
You have Feng Shui on speed dial.
Flip flops are for everyday wear; sandals are formal.
Your other car is a bicycle.
Your best friend’s children are named Mowayva Daisy, Last Lost Star and Jedfire.
You serve sushi on Thanksgiving.
You’ve smoked most of the plants in your herb garden.
You call soccer “futbol” and watch it religiously — once every four years.
You read the New Yorker — even though you don’t live in New York and, in fact, have never been there.
WD Fyfe 