Did you know most schools will keep a directory for you to look up students, faculty, and staff? I found that out when I was a senior in high school, and I thought that was kind of nifty, but I didn't know how useful it actually is.
When I look at my personal entry on Luther's directory, it has my name, my ID number, my photo (which looks really bad, by the way) where I live, and my advisor, among other typical, pertinent information that I guess I need to know about myself.
There's also an entry for my home address. Because of where I'm situated in Maplewood, I am close enough to St. Paul where Luther actually addresses my mail as St. Paul. I remember when I was still a prospie — all of my Luther flyers, my music recruitment letters from my flute prof and other ensemble directors, and even my acceptance letter listed my city as St. Paul, MN. And every time I saw that, I got a tad touched. I know it's a tiny thing to get upset about, but anyone who knows me knows that I can be petty... very petty.
Anyways, it got to a point where I was getting annoyed with Luther misaddressing me, so with my roommate's suggestion, I went to the Office of the Registrar to try and get that changed. Turns out they couldn't do anything for me so they sent me to the Office of the President (at this point, I thought that was a bit of a drastic action, going to the Office of the President), but it was too late to back out. They were able to change my address, and were surprisingly happy to do that for me.
Okay, now to the important part:
On the way back to my dorm, I was doing some thinking and I hadn't realized how unimportant the suburbs seem. Yes, my home is relatively close to St. Paul, but I certainly didn't think it was part of St. Paul. I already knew that, in a big metropolitan area like mine, I was just a small fish in a big pond, but I didn't think that Maplewood could just mesh into St. Paul like that.
As you can see with my fabulous art skills, Maplewood could be considered part of St. Paul, but like, Maplewood is it's own thing.
It's funny, the more I write about this, the more passionate I get for this suburb of mine. I suppose living in the middle of nowhere makes me appreciate living in civilization a little bit more. We have our own shopping mall, we have a bunch of eateries, and the community is more diverse than I'm used to seeing in Decorah. Sure, it has its fair share of crime (which is to be expected living in a suburb so close to St. Paul. I guess there was an armed suspect trying to ransack the local Popeye Chicken...), but Maplewood holds a dear place in my heart.
I spent nearly my whole childhood here in Maplewood. I remember going to one of the three parks near my house. I remember taking swimming lessons at the community center and going to the library as a small child. I remember being a middle schooler and being allowed to walk with my friends to the mall, making sure to stop at Deb and try on all the puffy dresses. I remember being able to drive down the street to the dentist and eventually being able to drive there myself as I became of age. Driving a little further down the road, you'd be able to see the Toyota Dealership and the Costco, which I never went to as a child but now go there regularly during the summers and breaks for work.
And now, even though there are things in Maplewood that I wish we had (we don't have an ice cream shop, and we have to go to the neighboring town for ice cream, and that's made out of Stevia! Gross!), living in Decorah makes me appreciate what I do have in Maplewood more. I guess what I'm trying to say is that absence really does make the heart grow fonder.
I just returned home to Minnesota last night. When I stepped off the bus when we parked in the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport bus lot, I was greeted by a gust of cold wind.
Welcome home, I thought to myself. Of course Minnesota would greet me by near knocking me over with a little wind. Some things never change, I guess.
It seemed so much colder as I was waiting for my parents to pick me up at baggage claim, but when they did, and as we were driving and getting closer and closer to home, I realized how much I missed Maplewood. As I stepped inside my home, I felt the warm fuzzies of being in the place I grew up. And I suppose that's what matters most.
