I recently returned from a wedding in Texas where I saw, among many other things, a great deal of pride-of-state. Bound up in the heart of every Texan is the Alamo as well as the motto "Don't Mess with Texas." I was there briefly, but didn't feel like challenging this sentiment; I was friendly with Texas and it returned the favor.
Upon returning I went through a brief period of covetousness. People of Texas embrace their accents, their cowboy boots and their rustic charm.
Residents of Maryland, on the other hand, struggle to find the beefy pride that matches our southern friends.
I submit that there are good reasons why Maryland struggles to maintain its identity.
The Motto of Maryland leaves a lot to be desired: "Manly Deeds, Womanly Words". I turn my head in sheepish shame whenever I read it and wonder what the blazes it means. Given that Maryland hasn't used it in any advertising campaigns recently, I'm probably not alone in this thinking.
One look at Maryland and you can see that it picked the short straw when it came to overall size and shape. Surrounded by West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Virginia and DC, one can clearly see that Maryland received, for lack of a better word, "leftovers". DC's awkward rhombus bites Maryland's south while Pennsylvania piggy-backs heavily on the northside. The other states are just as greedy.
I came to a clearer understanding of Maryland's unfortunate shape in fourth grade when my mother made Maryland-shaped cookies for my class to share. I distinctly remember her asking me, "Emily, look what I made! Can you tell me what it is?" Upon seeing the irregular looking cookie, I thought it looked like Santa's sleigh had met up with a pitbull. It's distinctive, that's for sure. I brought the cookies to the class, taking care not to let the weak northwest arm of Maryland crack off, an engineering nightmare.
Furthermore, Maryland struggles to ally herself with either the north or the south of the states. Technically speaking--or should I say "Civil War-ly" speaking, Maryland holds the esteemed position of being neither northern nor southern, dangling beneath the Mason Dixon line.
Midwesterners are quick to point out that Maryland is technically mid-Atlantic, and Marylanders will accept this nomenclature with general agreement because they realize that the midwest is filled with pioneer men and women who will eat them for lunch with Lawry's season salt. But in their hearts, Marylanders cleave to the fact that they are one of the Thirteen Original Colonies, a fact I learned in a song as a tender elementary student. Plus, we disregard most of what midwestern folk say the instant they ask, "So how IS Massachusetts?" Come to think of it, all the small "M" states on the coast hold this grudge.
It's a delightfully amusing place, culturally speaking. When a piece of land is surrounded by pearl-wearing political figures, West Virginian mountain folk and gritty Pennsylvanians, there is absolutely bound to be some confusion in what culture will evolve.
And that, I submit to you, makes Maryland a very adventurous place to live.
Beaches? Check.
Mountains? Yep.
Ocean? Uh-huh.
Rivers? Yes, and don't forget the Chesapeake Bay either.
The landscape and peoplescape and cityscape and countryscape keep one constantly learning and evolving and changing and committing.
This is impressed upon me every time I visit my husband's Iowan relatives; the people-scape is less diverse there and so are the cultural implications of that. I distinctly remember being offered copious amounts of Jello upon meeting Dan's family for the first time and seeing some very strong stares upon not digging in. That being said, Maryland can never, not-ever produce the sweetness of corn that I have indulged in Iowa. It's divine.
But I digress.
Maryland, I salute you. You are the generous neighbor to DC's political atmosphere, the kind harborer of the best crustaceans on earth, the ideal melting pot of ideas and the precious home of my upbringing.
Sorry you got the leftovers. I still love you.