Migration

“…most of the people who retire in Florida are wrinkled and they lean on a crutch. And mobile homes are smotherin' the Keys, I hate those bastards so much …” Migration. Jimmy Buffett. It’s been reported ad nauseum that there’s a Biblical exodus of people fleeing the crime, taxes, cost of living and politics of the Midwest and Northeast for a better life in Dixie and the Mountain West states. Apparently, some of them aren’t happy in their new state, and are moving back where they came from, my guess is they didn’t do their homework. North Carolina, who’s become home to a lot of these “refugees”, has even invented a name for them, they’re called “halfbacks”. A “halfback” is a New Yorker who moved to Florida, found out they didn’t like it once they lived there, and moved to North Carolina which is halfway back to NYC. Idaho and Montana have absorbed large numbers of Californians looking for a more conservative state to call home. The locals call them “COWS”, which translates to refugees from California, Oregon and Washington. Moving to a warmer climate to avoid ice, snow, and lowering your cost of living makes total sense. Moving for political reasons is a fool’s errand. The political makeup of a state changes in one or two election cycles, red states becoming purple, and purple states can become blue. There’s an included problem in uprooting and moving for political reasons- if you consider yourself an NYC or L.A. conservative, move to the south or mountains, and you’ll be introduced to real conservatives, and they’ll scare the hell out of you. Be prepared for a lifestyle change- there won’t be any nice little Sushi Bar downtown, there won’t be healthy choice options, or Korean Bar-b-que on the menu at the local diner. You won’t open conversations with, “what gym do you belong to?” You’ll need to forget that noticeable cough you have every time you walk by somebody smoking a cigarette, and nobody will notice that $1000 outfit you wore to the grocery store. You’ve moved to a place where friendships are born over generations, a handshake is a binding legal document, and strangers are accepted, but it takes a while. If you’re a “joiner”, you’ll get accepted, but they’ll look you over first. Leave your big city impatience up north, manners reign supreme in your new home. It’s like that big German Shepherd that lives next door- march over there tell him you’re going to be friends and you’ll get bit. Take it slow, let him come to you, and you’ll be pals for life…. Oh, I almost forgot, if you’re moving to Georgia, never say, “…well, bless your heart…” It’s a genteel suuuthern lady’s way of saying, “Fuck You”…