Transplanted Huntington Beach Native Flourishing in Midwest

Twenty-two years in my native California was long enough. When I left three years ago, I was tired of congested freeways, crowds and a lack of distinct seasons. Even more distressing was a culture I considered to be too fast-paced and consumed with itself.

The recent flood in Seal Beach is one example. Rather than reading about 3,000 people sandbagging, I read that 3,000 jammed the pier to watch the high waves and were let down because they were expecting more. Were they disappointed more homes weren’t destroyed? These are just more examples of how Southern California is often perceived by others as a land of extremes. After a year in St. Paul, Minn., I am happy to report that I am proud to reside in a region that cares so much about its community.

It is difficult to convince Midwesterners why a native of Huntington Beach would want to settle here. Many Minnesotans have a dream of venturing west to warmer climates, yet they fail to recognize the multitude of challenges that exist in everyday California life. Unlike California, newcomers to the Midwest are rare and often viewed with a degree of suspicion. In order to feel more a part of the region, I decided to participate in a flood cleanup project in Grand Forks, N.D., last spring.

The flooding in North Dakota and Minnesota was compounded by an unusually harsh winter and a north flowing river. Water from the Red River of the North inundated homes and farmland for miles on each side of the river’s banks.

When I saw the Red River in person, I was surprised that it could have caused so much destruction. While driving to the cleanup site, I saw 6-foot-high piles of books, clothes, toys, furniture and memories that were blocks long. This was all headed for the landfill. Beyond these bunkers of rubble was green grass well nourished by the nutrient-rich flood waters that had covered the area for days. It was the oddest contrast.

A fire during the flood made matters worse as a significant portion of the downtown was gutted. The building our group was dispatched to had survived the inferno but suffered hundreds of thousands of dollars in damage from water that covered nearly 5 feet of the first floor. The proprietor of a basement hair salon simply walked away from her livelihood. Underneath inches of thick muck we uncovered a jar of tips and mail postmarked a few days before a mandatory evacuation was imposed.

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If the Santa Ana River ever floods, you will be lucky there are no basements in Orange County. We heard the owner’s frustration about the federal government’s delay in passing a disaster relief bill and not knowing if, and where, a new levee would be built.

Yet, people were able to get through the arduous cleanup with a sense of humor, including one sign on the porch of a condemned home that read, “Please wipe feet before entering.”

Even though North Dakota’s population is only 640,000, I saw a healthy abundance of community loyalty, hard workers and friendliness throughout my stay.

After a full day of hard labor, I was a able to visit a friend’s farm near Grand Forks. For one who learned how to drive in Orange County, I am still surprised to drive places without being delayed by a traffic jam. The largest highway in North Dakota has, by far, fewer lanes than Beach Boulevard. I would drive for miles without seeing another car. Farmers returning from a day of planting their fields waved to me. My friend seemed to know everyone in her town of about 175 people; they left the keys in their cars, and they never locked the front door. I was told that you never know when a neighbor (who might be no closer than a mile) might need to use a car or telephone. All of this amazed me, but at the same time my amazement was puzzling to my North Dakotan friends. They would be just as astonished by gas pumps that require payment before pumping.

Grand Forks’ infectious community spirit and desire to become an even stronger city after such a terrible disaster impressed me. I may never return to live in Orange County, but I hope that those who are lucky enough to experience endless summers will begin to explore ways to increase community pride in Southern California. This will not only improve your quality of life but make it easier to recover from any major disaster, as I saw in Grand Forks.