apple juice

Why do I feel a twinge of sadness and longing as the Airbus A320 painted with the colors of Delta Airlines announces its presence in my airspace, the tailfin painted with the greek symbol meaning “change”?

I think it’s in the blood of the Minnesotan.

I have no reason to love Northwest Airlines, nor reason to mourn its demise. My experiences in flying different airlines have shown them all to be roughly the same. (Though, as it turns out, Delta serves peanuts on their flights, allergies be damned.)

Why do Minnesotans cluck in digust at the sound of “Macy’s” or “Marshall Fields” while longing for the chance to once again walk through the revolving doors of Dayton’s. Aren’t we looking for the same sales on the same jeans?

It seems to me that we are a bit lost in the stateless and shifting world of multinational organizations. Who are you if you fly Delta Airlines? Who are you if you shop at Target, or Wal-mart?

Instead, why don’t we identify with our place? Your neighborhood, your park, your book store, your coffee shop?

These are places that will reward you with an investment of your time. The proprietor of my coffee shop knows the sound of my car and has a drink ready for me when I walk in.

Find what makes your place special, and make a little nest around that stuff. Like your wacky neighbor, a quirky restaurant, or the hardware store that lets you walk your dog inside for a treat.