The California Girl

Author: Megan Michelson Features Editor

At a time in American history in which people of all ethnicities, ages, gender and geographical origins have come together to celebrate being Americans, I have noticed that the previously well- defined lines between east coast and west coast are blurred. Recently it has become easy for us to relate to those who live thousands of miles away simply because we all share similar looking passports. East coasters are no longer distinct from those hailing from west of the Rocky Mountains, just as Southerners are better able to sympathize with those who are rooted north of the Mason-Dixon line. Geography is no longer an issue when it comes to nationalism. Those living in Los Angeles hang the American flag with as much pride and symbolism as those from New York City. In times of national upset, people have overlooked the barriers between regions.

Although I am in total support of a national sense of patriotism, I recommend that we do not forget that we come from different areas of the country and that in turn makes us the individuals who make America such a diverse and plentiful place to live. I am going to take this opportunity, in my very first column, to state proudly that although I am an American, I am also a Californian. And due to the fact that I was born and raised that way, I will never fully understand the lives of those who reside on the East Coast, a place that is still as foreign to me as the department store Filene's, despite my living here during the academic period for over a year now.

There are certain qualities that those of us from anywhere remotely close to the Pacific Ocean possess that make us undeniably distinct from those bred near that exotic body of water called the Atlantic Ocean. I remember my first swim in the salty waves of the Atlantic and, although it resembled the clear blue waters of the Pacific, there was an indistinguishable quality that simply made it profoundly different.

Most of the differences between the east coast and the west coast (unfortunately I cannot account for any of the land in between) are so subtle that separately they are insignificant. However, as an entire body of irrelevant differences, there is undeniably a major contrast between the East and the West, nationally speaking. Let me start off by saying that although the East was founded and established as communities of persons prior to the movement westward, there are a few things that the West proudly claims as its own.

First of all, ice cream. Any West-Coaster knows the beauty of a pint of Dreyer's Grand Ice Cream, enclosed in a striped cylindrical container that vaguely resembles the east coast's knockoff version of a similarly packaged Edy's Ice Cream. Dreyer's was founded in Oakland, Calif., in 1928, and it wasn't until 1981 that the east coast caught on to the trend and began serving the copycat Edy's.

An equally delicious snack that the west coast can take credit for is my personal favorite movie theater candy, Red Vines, originally produced in 1914 by the American Licorice Company. The east coast, tragically enough, has been forced to settle for the lower quality version, Twizzlers, by Nestle, that I think can be compared with red strips of plastic.

Additionally, California has its renowned In-N-Out Burger, a chain restaurant called Fresh Choice and a grocery store known as Albertsons, all of which are sadly lacking on the east coast.

Not that brand names are the sole defining characteristics of the differentiation between the east coast and the west coast. There are also behavioral norms and social standards the somehow don't translate cross-continentally.

The very concept of smoking in any public setting or eating establishment is completely beyond the realm of my imagination, as California law dictates that smoking is not permitted in these locations, yet in my relatively recent relocation to the Vermont, I have seen the lighting of cigarettes frighteningly close to my dinner table.

Also, it was previously incomprehensible for me to conceive of driving across more than one state in a matter of several hours. In the West, the great magnitude of the states prohibits road trippers to make it much farther than half way across a state between stops to refill on gasoline. However, in the East, where states are the size of counties in California, drivers can travel through upwards of four or five states in an afternoon jaunt.

The definition of geographical features and phrases also poses a blatant difference between easterners and westerners. What those in the East call mountains, we in the West affectionately call hills, if that. The elevation levels are different enough to give any native East Coaster altitude sickness upon hiking to the top of what is rightly labeled a mountain in the West.

What those from California and neighboring states refer to as warm weather normally implies a temperature around a comfortable 70 degrees Fahrenheit and anything below about 30 degrees is deemed absolutely unbearable. However, in the East, people have altered the view to accept the unreasonable and often extreme temperatures and some how manage to call anything over zero degrees comfortable.

I realize that most of the distinctions between the coasts I'm mentioning are as irrevelant to life as the annoying way that naïve east coasters say the names of the states of Oregon and Nevada (those who have made the mistake and been corrected know who they are).

However, their insignificance in the entire scheme of things is what makes being an American so valuable. No matter what type of candy we enjoy at the movies or what kind of fast food we eat, there is a universal understanding that the distinctions between Americans is what brings us together when we need it most.