I never really considered Grand Rapids to be small town or conservative until I escaped the confines of Kent County. It was often referred to as Bland Rapids by many local disgruntled kids, including moi. I had a normal childhood, went to decent schools, had plenty of friends. There was just an air of arrogance I detected only AFTER I moved to Chicago and came home for holiday visits. (I will insert a disclaimer in here right now. All of my friends and family are exempt from these comments. I certainly would not mean to offend. I am a bit sarcastic and somehwat cynical but it's all in good fun so don't get your undies in a wad just yet..)
The majority of my childhood memories revolve around my grade school, Immaculate Heart of Mary, or IHM. I went to school there from 2nd-8th grade, clad in my red, white, and blue pleated plaid uniform, knee socks, and saddle shoes. SOOO hot. We were even given skin-tight pants in the same pattern to show off our adolescent curves. (I'm making myself sound cute. I was not. I sampled a variety of really bad haircuts, including a mullet and a few perms. I was NOT sexy schoolgirl, I was awkward, buck-toothed, did-you-cut-your-hair-yourself girl.) Those girls with "unfortunate figures" opted not to wear these polyester plaid tights with good reason. Kids from other Catholic school dubbed us I Have Money. Whatever. I don't think my family was loaded. Weren't they ALL paying for a parochial education here?
I was pretty studious and a bit of a kiss-ass. I was the kid who liked to stay in at recess to help the teacher create her winter bulletin board. Never really rebelled, that came much later in life. I was constantly concerned with whether or not I was considered popular. (I was giddy with joy when Shawn Vassell signed my yearbook and wrote "You are pretty AND popular". He was pretty high up on the echelon of 8th grade society so who could not be psyched about that?!) I joined the basketball team, not because I was good at sports (I royally sucked) or because I really enjoyed it but everyone played so I did, too. In the two years I played I think I only scored two baskets. One was by accident. My best friend and I screwed around at practice most of the time. We would make each other laugh by pulling each other's pants down. No wonder I never knew what the hell a free throw was...
I joined cheerleading because you also did not have to try out and everyone was doing it. Our coach, Kitty (no shit. It was a nickname but it truly suited her.), chanted clever cheers and we mimicked her. Well, except for the platinum blonde hair, tight skirts, waif-like figure, and perfectly tanned skin. And she was nice. Bitch. It was super fun plus cheerleaders are always popular, right? A-W-E-S-O-M-E!! Awesome! Awesome! Totally!!!!
Even though I'm definitely an extrovert now (shocking, I know), I used to be painfully shy. Even if I knew a boy liked me I would curl up and just about DIE before talking to him. I remember this boy liked me and we had planned to go to a nearby "mall", Breton Village. I put this in parentheses because it was essentially a strip mall that happened to be enclosed by 4 walls. The boy informed me that, since he was going to be a big, bad freshman in high school he was moving up and only hung out at Woodland Mall. This is still a poor excuse for a mall but it still ranked higher than Breton Village. I was crushed. I was too young and intimidated by the thought of a REAL mall. Plus my parents told me hell no. Sigh. This boy had immensely large nostrils and probably a very small penis, too. But since I was a shy little piece of shit, I would have to wait till I was nearly SEVENTEEN FRICKING YEARS-OLD till I got my first kiss. Now do you believe me that I was a pussy when it came to boys?!
Upon reaching 8th grade, I had to choose between ballet at a private dance school or parochial high school. Goodbye, dress code, and hello Guess zippered ankle jeans and Benetton sweaters!!!! Coming to a public high school scene as a timid new student, fresh from the confines of Catholic school, I was screwed. I was befriended by a nice girl named Jodi, who was uber-thin, uber-blonde, and fresh from the pages of Tiger Beat magazine with her Esprit ensemble. Thank you, popular cheerleader girl, for making me feel welcome!! (at least in art class. Beyond that she looked at me in the halls like I had antlers growing out of my head..)
Ballet was my life outside of school. (Go ahead say it. Dork. Bunhead. Geek. Loser.) I danced 5-6 days a week during high school. I suppose this did not help my social situation since I rarely went to football games on Friday nights. But at least I was good at it and I really enjoyed it. This is the place I broke out of my shyness shell. In fact, my running commentary was so wild and raunchy sometimes that I had parents complain about my "sense of humor". I got in trouble with the director of my ballet company and was told to "tone it down". I would still love to know which parent got offended by me styling my hair into the Dildo Bun. It was classic, how could you NOT laugh?! Prudish freaks.
I became social, I found my little niche of creative, somewhat alternative people to hang with. We opted to hang at our favorite nighclub, Top of the Rock, (which was dive with sticky floors and a mediocre sound system) most Friday nights. I wanted to be all goth and scary but that much black eyeliner and clove cigarettes were a little too crazy to commit to. I was just crazy enough to become enamored with a freakishly small, troll doll-looking freakshow who danced onstage here. His hair looked like a fucking mushroom. Could someone please let me know why you did not punch me in the head with one of your Doc Martins boots to knock some God damn sense into me?! Thanks for letting me look like a raging asshole for a year. Nice. I appreciate that.
My existence in GR was fine. I knew no better. My sun rose and set with my life there. I went of to college, much of which is blurry, but I DID manage to graduate in four years. Then I moved to Chicago and (aaahhhhh!!! -insert choir of angels here) my life changed. People of all ethnicities, great restaurants, shopping that never ended, great fashion, and really open-minded people. I know Grand Rapids has become a lot more diverse but when I lived there it was pretty white bread. My high school had a couple of black kids, a handful of Indians, maybe 10 Asians, and the rest were cracker-ass crackers like myself. Not the exact picture of a melting pot America's supposed to be. But that's my perspective.
With broadened horizons, I returned home for Thanksgiving and sometimes Christmas. Grand Rapids is a city where I always seem to run into someone I know, whether at the mall (the BIG one, I have gotten over my pre-pubescent fear and can handle Woodland now.) or the local pumpkin patch/apple orchard. People who still live there, who have never escaped beyond the city limits and have no desire to, are weird. Sorry but it's true. I'm not talking about those who sometimes visit your brother in Chicago or at MSU, it's just that living elsewhere changes your perspective a little. Okay, a shitload. And sometimes those "Screw You, GR Is the SHIZZLE" characters can be a little uppity. Do you really think your Dutch Christian-reformed shit doesn't stink? (GR has a massive population of this religion. Just look up the Vander prefix in the phone book. Good Lord.) It does.
Now granted, when I head home for Thanksgiving I am psyched to see family and friends, most of whom still live there. But I find myself searching for social opportunities, decent shopping, and unique restaurants when we're there. Not quite the selection as Chicago but now who sounds like a snobby bitch? Sorry, Grand Rapids Brewing Company and San Chez are not that yummy. You can do better, GR. The population is expanding, I don't feel the need to be paranoid about running into ex-boyfriends (although my brother spotted The Troll in Chicago a few years back. Eeewww...) or any other arch nemesis from my past.
I live in suburbia now, away from Chicago by a few miles. With kids and a house it was inevitbable. Maybe you think I'm a bitch for this rant. I don't care. This is my blog, get your own if you want to put your city on a pedestal. You know how I feel about uppity people. You are no better than me for remaining in your childhood city than me. Get over yourself. I don't consider myself superior over you. We're even, okay? But don't you think putting "Grand" in the title is a little ostentatious?
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