#164. or, City Cousin, Country Cousin

  Over the long weekend, we attended the 2nd annual camping/casual family reunion held by my mom's side of the family. This year my cousin, who lives in Vancouver, and his son were able to attend.

  It occurred to me, over the course of the weekend, that my city cousin lives a bit of a different life than I, his country cousin does.

 City cousin jetted in from Vancouver, country cousin arrived by pickup truck. Granted, his flight happened as the result of saved up air miles, routed him through various airports, and included multiple planes, and a rental car. I realize he probably had to jump through way more hoops than I did to get there, but he's a seasoned traveler. I've been to 3 destinations by airplane in my life and whenever I have to go somewhere far flung, my first thought is still, "wonder if I could drive there?"

  City cousins favorite coffee comes from Starbucks and has a title five words long, none of which happen to actually be the word "coffee". Country cousin drinks whatever is in the tin can his wife brings home with the groceries.

  City cousin likes to sample various hard liquors, on the rocks, can detect subtle nuances and flavours, then instantly devise a list of  possible drink combinations out of his head. Country cousin needs a beer. And maybe, after this weekend, a Gin & Tonic.

  City cousin knows the proper pronunciation of all of the cigars that country cousin has in his humidor. The ones that country cousin chose because he liked the way they looked when he was buying them.

  City cousin, will occasionally take a job editing a book, is schooled in proper punctuation, grammar, and sentence structure, yet doesn't write. Country cousin writes, yet is dismal at proper punctuation, grammar, and  sentence structure.

  City cousin, while unusually pale, has exceptional skin and looks much younger than the years he has under his belt. Country cousins skin looks like a belt.

  You would think, with all of those differences, my city cousin and I would have nothing in common and would be hard pressed to find something to actually chat about. Yet, it's quite the opposite. We spent more than one evening, talking long into the night. Which goes to show you, it doesn't really matter where you come from, or what life you happen to be living, there's connections to be made everywhere. You just have to let them happen.

  He's quite supportive of me toward compiling some of these ridiculous posts into some sort of a book or something. Who knows? But I won't say it's never crossed my mind.

  I suspect, that if I were to visit the city, in my pickup truck, I may not blend in so well. I don't know how many good 'ol boys they have in Vancouver. Or, maybe I'd do fine? As long as I didn't draw any attention to myself by trying to get into the backseat of  a pickup by crawling over the front seat, instead of just using the back door.

  ............don't worry, Roland, I won't tell anybody about that, your secrets safe with me.