Ah, summer! Always the best season here in Clark County, and elsewhere as vacations unfold. Unfortunately, when we venture more than a few hours’ drive beyond our community, we usually become entangled in familiar snares of geographic confusion. It’s the price we pay for living in or near a city that few people in distant places have ever heard of. (Sorry to offend longtime local residents, but some of us never knew about Vancouver, Wash., until we started thinking about moving here).
Our problem is compounded by the fact that we must share our city’s name with a younger but bigger and more prominent city. And worsening our identity crisis this year have been two developments in sports: the 2010 Winter Olympics, and the more recent success of the Vancouver Canucks in the National Hockey League playoffs. Not until May 11 were the Vancouver skaters eliminated by the Chicago Blackhawks in the Western Conference semifinals. For almost a month of hockey playoffs, newspapers across two nations carried headlines about “Vancouver.”
(These headlines were almost as misleading as one I deceitfully yet proudly posted on my office bulletin board: “Laird claims first PGA Tour title with playoff victory.” It seems one Martin Laird is a pro golfer from Scotland and Colorado State University. Minor details, not worth mentioning.)
Recently I took two trips (four days in Texas; three days to Seattle, Wenatchee and Lake Chelan) and was reminded how serious our identity crisis has become. After seven years of failing to properly explain where I live, I hereby surrender and accept my fate. From now on, when strangers inquire, the tongue-tripping name of my city will be “Vancouverwashingtonjustacrosstheriverfromportlandoregon.”
Such a burden, but it’s necessary to prevent the wave of befuddlement that otherwise ensues.
The inevitable question
The ice-breaker question when traveling has become predictable and tiresome. Wait for it. Wait for it. “So, where’re you from?” My answer for years (before I surrendered and accepted my fate) was a confident and lilting, “Vancouver, Washington.” Last month, a woman in a church near Dallas smiled and replied to my stock answer, “Oh, my! Such a lovely place!”
Lordy, if only it were that easy.
“Yes, we love it there,” I eagerly added, hoping to move on to the next topic in our conversation.
Then this fool woman cluelessly plunged her verbal stiletto: “I’ll never forget the time we sailed up the east coast of Vancouver Island!” Arrgghh!
I managed to control the eye rolling. No one likes to see that in a new friend. But the impatience that accumulates over 61 years has made it harder to hide my aggravation. So, I look for alternative strategies.
I could demur: “Near Portland, Ore.” Or I could launch into my well-memorized sermon about where Vancouver really is, its rich history and significance in the westward march of civilization. But I’ve learned that most people aren’t interested in that stuff. Heck, they never really cared where I’m from when they asked the question.
So I just looked at the disinterested woman in the church, shifted my stance and drawled, “How ’bout them Cowboys?” She was none the wiser, literally, and judging from the way she happily peered out from under her beehive hairdo, she was glad to move on to her preferred subject.
Then, a week later, while savoring a glorious boat trip up Lake Chelan, I waited nervously and, sure ’nuff, this nice little old lady popped the question. I snapped, “Vancouverwashingtonjustacrosstheriverfromportlandoregon!” Her smiled slowly dissolved. She pivoted and gazed back at the scenery. Maybe the swiftness of my delivery betrayed a bit of impatience.
My friends and loved ones will tell you that I’m not the most gregarious guy at any party. And now my personality flaw is aggravated by the least of culprits: my beloved hometown.
I hope you enjoy your summer and your vacation. Try not to ruin it by losing patience with all the cartographical clods who don’t know or even care about the place you love so dearly.
John Laird is The Columbian’s editorial page editor. His column of personal opinion appears each Sunday. Reach him at john.laird@columbian.com.
