City-Idiots = Citiots

I spent the first 18 years of my life living the small town American experience: playing in the woods, jumping in swimming holes, drinking at field parties, even occasionally going many days riding in cars that never drove through even one stoplight. That childhood now seems simple, uncomplicated - probably why I smile even now thinking of it.

Some of my childhood friends remain rural people. I respect them for the activities they still do that never interested me: hunting, fishing, the ability to work skillfully and consistently with their hands. In this Middle-Management World most of us live in, there is still much to admire in a person who is self-sufficient - who fells his own trees for home-heating, fixes his own vehicles, repairs his own home.

So far, the second half of my life has been lived in a major urban area - the Twin Cities. I won't lie; I enjoy it - the convenience, the culture, even at times the congestion. But, much to my surprise, I have begun to incorporate certain activities into my urban present that were never part of my rural past - specifically woodworking. And not surprisingly, I've discovered how satisfying this creative process can be (even when the finished product is so-so).



To be honest, all of my creations were borne from financial necessity. There were things I wanted, but didn't want to pay too much for. The obvious conclusion was to make them myself at a fraction of the cost. But I had to employ the K.I.S.S. Method (Keep It Simple, Stupid!) because I am no master craftsman and have a total of maybe three or four viable tools in my toolbox, two of which are identical screwdrivers.

During all this creating, I thought about a name my rural friends have for urban dwellers like myself: Citiots. Citiot is a mash-up of City and Idiot and is not complimentary. A Citiot refers to urban men or women who make ridiculous purchases, are booksmart only, don't recycle, can't operate a chainsaw, pay $6 or more for a tap beer, etc. You get the point. Smart but dumb.

No, we are not all Citiots. We know it and so do our rural friends. But there certainly are plenty of things we consistently do that make them scratch their heads in dumbfounded wonder. A few Citiot qualities I have include:

1. Buying a $4 cup of coffee - No it's not a regular habit for me, (I keep this one mostly at home) but if you routinely start most days with a medium Starbucks white chocolate nonfat, decaf, no-whip, hold the chocolate shavings, extra hot mocha - which is almost the same price as a gallon of gas - you know you're a Citiot.



2. Driving 10 miles to go for a 3 mile run - Guilty. I love Lake Harriet and Lake Calhoun in south Minneapolis. Unfortunately, they are far enough away that it takes me two different freeways to get there. Still, when summer eventually arrives, I will make that journey 2-3 days a week. Citiot.



3. Spending $5 for a convenience store bundle of wood - I know, I know - eight pieces of thinly split wood shrink-wrapped in plastic is an outrage. Hey it's all we've got! Perhaps my foraging skills have been dulled too much. Sure, I can skillfully zipper-merge, text and drive and explain the difference between Interstate 494 and 694 with authority. But apparently it is too much work for a Citiot like me to scrounge a few FREE pieces of wood from around the neighborhood (or a dumpster) for a decent bonfire. Guilty again.



4. Believing Busch and Busch Light beer is awful - I have never liked the taste of beer, even when I used to drink a lot of it. So why am I now too good for this popular rural (and very inexpensive) beer? I have no idea. After all, after the first two or three, every beer tastes the same to me - terrible. Nonetheless, it's only Leinenkugel Honey Weiss or Blue Moon I'll drink (at about 1/3 more the cost - that adds up). For the record, PBR is still piss beer - it was when I was 16 and still is today. But when a six-pack costs $2.49 in 1983 and 2013 who's gonna say no?



Does this mean I am going to reform my Citiot ways? No, it doesn't. I'm a smarter Citiot than I used to be (recycling now gives me a small thrill - I should seek help for that), have begun to return to my foraging roots and am looking forward to my next woodworking project. Still, one 16-year habit puzzles me more and more every single day. I commute 40+ miles (42.5 - but who's counting) to work, out of the Twin Cities to . . . you're not gonna believe this . . . a small, rural town.

Citiot.